Bring Me to Life
by SlytherPouf
Summary: Snape is engulfed by his own personal Darkness following the final battle. How can Hermione help the wizard who believes he has nothing to live for? This is a little dark, a little ugly, a little sexy, a little romantic and a lot M, for several reasons. Definitely one for adults only. *NOW COMPLETE*
1. Chapter 1

***** Anything you may recognise belongs to JK Rowling, with thanks for allowing us to play with her characters for a while. This story is a non-profit making work of fanfiction *****

Chapter 1

 _Wake me up inside, wake me up inside,_

 _Call my name and save me from the Dark._

 _Bid my blood to run, before I come undone,_

 _Save me from the Nothing I've become ..._

 _(Evanescence, Bring Me to Life)_

Severus Snape swept around the dank dungeon classroom brandishing his ebony wand in a clenched fist as he vanished and cleared the detritus from his final Potions lesson of the day; second-year Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Despite the students ostensibly having tidied up after their practical session, to a perfectionist like Snape the room was still unbearably out of order.

Discarded and dropped ingredients lay carelessly under work benches, with no thought given to what reactions may occur if two incompatible items were to accidentally combine. Cauldrons had been given a cursory scrub but the congealed remains of the second-year shrinking solution the students had been attempting clung solidly to the pewter bases of many of them. He would endeavour to hand out some detentions that evening, having miscreants scrub cauldrons without magic was a personal favourite punishment of his. He waved his wand and sent the cauldrons spinning over to stack in the large sinks at the back of the room to await their dishwasher. Textbooks had been left behind on the benches and on stools; at least these were named so he could identify the forgetful culprits and deduct an appropriate number of housepoints from the errant students.

Worst of all was the disarray that the store cupboard had been left in; the professor's usual strict alphabetical ordering system had been plundered by thirty pairs of adolescent hands with no regard for anyone else who may need to procure their own ingredients. He rolled his eyes and swept his wand over the storeroom, and curled his mouth in satisfaction as the bottles began to rearrange themselves to his exact specifications.

Stalking through the classroom that was now tidy to his own exacting standards, he watched as the early evening gloom that preceded a cold December night threaded its smoky fingers through the small windows at the top of the wall. These windows were the only source of natural light that permeated the dungeon, and the early darkness that fell at this time of year meant that the candles in the wall sconces were often lit halfway through the afternoon classes.

He caught sight of his wraith-like reflection in one of the large jars along the eye-level shelves around the room, jars that drew repulsed glances from his students and contained such delicacies as pickled newt intestines, frog's eyes, scarab beetles and gutted flobberworms.

He met the own eyes of his reflection and mused that he looked just as creepy as some of the contents of the jars.

The months following the end of the war earlier that year had not been kind to him as he had struggled to recuperate from what should have been a fatal attack from Voldemort's snake, Nagini. The Battle of Hogwarts, as it had become known, had seen him chased from the school by the Heads of House, summoned to the Shrieking Shack by Lucius Malfoy on Voldemort's order, where the Dark Lord had turned on his 'faithful servant' Severus Snape in an attempt to gain mastery of the Elder Wand, of which he had incorrectly presumed Severus to be the master.

Voldemort had encased Snape's head in a golden sphere that contained the wretched snake; who had ripped his neck and throat to little more than shreds. Not waiting to see Snape struggle for his final breaths, the barely-corporeal Dark Lord had left the shack taking Nagini with him. Potter, Granger and Weasley had rushed in following his departure, all seemingly at a loss to what to do.

He had very little speech or life blood left, but he managed to communicate to Potter to take his memories and view them immediately in Dumbledore's pensieve. He remembered vaguely clutching Potter's hand, followed by blackness.

And that should have been it. He should have bled out on the dusty floor of the Shrieking Shack, ironically where he nearly met his end years earlier at the mercy of a transformed Remus Lupin, the memories would be viewed and his pathetic obsession with Lily Evans Potter would be revealed to all. Dumbledore's stored memories along with his own, just passed to Harry, would have been enough to grant him a post-humus exoneration of his war crimes, and he would take his own personal guilt to his grave.

He had not counted on the loyalty of Draco Malfoy, his favourite student and not just because he was the Slytherin son of a death eater, who upon hearing that his father had brought Snape to his death before the Dark Lord, refused point blank to leave Hogwarts after Voldemort had been defeated without retrieving the body of his professor from the shack.

Lucius, Narcissa and Draco had hastened to where Severus lay to find not his dead body, but a barely-breathing, heavily-bleeding but definitely alive Professor Snape. Narcissa had been trained in healing before her marriage, and immediately shed her outer robe to transfigure into magically-weighted gauze pads to stem the flow of blood in his neck.

Draco had searched his teacher's cloak, convinced that Snape would not have gone before the Dark Lord without protection and was proved right as he discovered the bespoke antivenin that Severus had created specifically for Nagini after Arthur Weasley was attacked, and a bottle of blood replenishing potion.

Lucius had used Severus' own _Vulnera Sanateur_ spell to knit together the wounds in his neck enough so that the potions could be administered.

Between them they worked to restore enough life to their former friend to allow him to be side-along apparated to Malfoy Manor. Apparition had been possible within Hogwarts once Snape had been chased from the school by the other teachers, as Headmaster he had officially deserted his post, leaving Hogwarts without a Headteacher. Without a Head to command them, the wards fell. Many death eaters were able to escape justice by apparating away from Hogwarts following the fall of Voldemort to Harry Potter's wand.

Once ensconced in a guest suite of Malfoy Manor, Severus was treated by hired healers from St Mungos, paid in galleons by the Malfoys. House elves fed and attended to him. He began to heal. Physically, he began to heal. Mentally and emotionally, well, that was another matter entirely.

Draco told him the full story of how they had been able to rescue him from the Shrieking Shack, and brought him updates from Ministry trials of war criminals and copies of the Daily Prophet to keep him abreast of the current news.

Any witch or wizard not killed in the final battle who was branded with the dark mark was sent immediately to Azkaban. For this reason there were many uncaptured death eaters still at large. Severus Snape was acquitted on a unanimous vote from the Wizengamot on the testimony of Albus Dumbledore, and awarded an Order of Merlin for his audacious contribution to the Light during the Second Wizarding War.

Lucius and Draco Malfoy, despite both bearing the dark mark, were spared Azkaban. Draco on account of his age, he had been only sixteen when Voldemort had branded him, considered a child in the wizarding world and therefore considered incapable of either accepting or refusing the dark mark. Lucius kept his liberty largely due to his efforts to save the life of Severus Snape, and also due to the actions of his wife Narcissa, who in lying to Voldemort directly resulted in saving the life of Harry Potter. Lucius was bound to wear a magic-suppressing cuff for five years, which was proving appalling, but better than incarceration on a large rock in the North Sea.

Severus looked upon his reflection in disgust. His unkempt, long black hair was still hanging in thin, greasy strands around his shoulders. Eyes as cold and unfeeling as black ice stared back at him. The lines around his forehead, eyes and mouth had become more pronounced with the extreme stress of the preceding few years of being a redoubled agent, walking a thin, precarious line between the puppet masters of Dumbledore and Voldemort.

He still favoured an all-black style of dress, topped off with his customary billowing teacher's robes, although he had now added a permanent glamour to his routine, to cover the abhorrent scarring to his neck left by Nagini's attack. The majority of his other scars, souvenirs from his years as a death eater, were mostly hidden beneath his restrictive clothing, and the visible ones on his hands could easily be explained away as Potions accidental injuries. Nothing would ever be seen. At least his shagging days were over, he thought, wryly, he had no reason to disrobe in front of another.

Not that there had been much of a sex life to speak of. He had lost his virginity to his then-best friend Lily Evans in the sweetest encounter one summer back in Spinner's End. That was the summer before he lost her friendship forever. Shortly after he made the worst decision of his cursed life and joined the brave new ranks of Voldemort's death eaters.

At nineteen, the depraved debauchery of a death eater revel was a carnal delight to Severus and those young Slytherins like him. He'd had more sex that year, both consensual and ... not so consensual, than the rest of his life in total. Even now his cock would stir at the thought of the free and easy copulation that Voldemort delighted in insisting upon, publically and with many partners.

Two years later it had become less fun and more of an ordeal. Raping muggle girls did not appeal, and he spent most of the time avoiding their eyes, ignoring their screams, and concentrating on the quickest possible orgasm so that he could stop.

At thirty-six he saw revels for what they were – torture. Voldemort had grown ever more inhuman after his reincarnation in the Little Hangleton graveyard, and his lack of a fully corporeal body to participate in the revels himself meant that he commanded his loyal followers to commit acts of further and further depravity. Death eaters had not only raped and abused muggles but had also been required to copulate with each other for the Dark Lord's pleasure. He fought back the vomit rising in his throat as he remembered fucking the squat Alecto Carrow from behind as the crowd of death eaters jeered them on.

The vile Alecto clearly enjoyed every minute, screeching like a pig at market, her skirts held up over her head by other death eaters. Severus had forced his mind and eyes elsewhere to achieve his required orgasm, before turning his heel out of the room to lose his dinner in one of Narcissa Malfoy's rosebushes.

The next time Alecto had been offered to him, and her squinty little eyes had glittered at him, already making to bend over, he had suffered Voldemort's wrath rather than stick his cock in her again. He still bore the stripes of the magical lash across his back. It had been worth it.

He pulled his eyes away from his depressing reflection in the large potion bottles, and walked, slower than his usual pace, across his classroom and sank down in the large leather chair behind his desk; he had essays to mark before dinner.

As he picked up his vicious red quill, his favourite for annotating dunderheaded essays with scarlet vitriol, the fruitlessness of his task assaulted him so hard between the eyes that he had to quickly pinch the bridge of his large nose in protection. What the hell was he doing? Why was he back here? Where was the red blood that used to pump like fire in his veins and flow as easily as his crimson ink? Why was he continuing to lie to himself?

He had no business being back here at Hogwarts. The magical rebuild had been completed during his recovery and convalescence at Malfoy Manor over the summer; the Ministry had actually done something right for once and expended all available resources to repair the school and have it re-open for the first day of the new term on 1st September as always.

Aside from the re-build, and re-stocking, new staff had had to be recruited. Minerva McGonagall had taken her rightful place as Headmistress with Filius Flitwick as Deputy. Severus was not asked to return to the Headship, nor would he have wished to. His year of tenure would be nought but an ugly inkblot on a footnote in history. He would have no portrait in the Head's office as he neither retired nor died in role – he was a deserter.

Angrily thinking that his year as Headmaster, protecting the students from the death eaters rampaging through the castle, costing him mind, body and soul was more than most Heads had had to cope with, he grabbed an essay parchment from the top of the pile, hoping to distract himself from the path his thoughts were currently taking.

Minerva had visited him at Spinners End the last week in August, where he had just returned, practically fully recovered. She had begged him to return to his position as Potions Master. Horace Slughorn had taken the opportunity of a peaceful retirement and McGonagall did not have enough love for the man's teaching to persuade him to stay.

Snape had made her tea and listed all the reasons why it would be impractical and insensitive for him to return to Hogwarts, but the Scottish harridan was having none of it. She had looked around the dingy old millworker's house, thick with dust and little furniture or comfort, and left him with the offer he could never refuse;

"Where else are you going to go, Severus?"

She was right and they both knew it. The evening of 1st September found Severus at his seat at the teachers table, clad in his familiar black robes, scars covered, glaring at the returning students and showing no apparent interest in the new ones. He had felt even more hated than before. The students who had been at Hogwarts during that last final year of the war, despite being fully informed of all the facts and circumstances (excellent, more people who knew of his crush; that had become love; that had become his obsession and life purpose) eyed him with mistrust and open dislike. He resolved not to care. He would close himself off and feel nothing.

He felt that he himself was less than nothing. Nothing, apart from the man who should have died. A man who had no business being still alive when so many had breathed their last at his hand, directly or indirectly. A man who had made, and was still making, all the wrong decisions.

He leaned back against the leather back of his chair and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He rested his large hands upon the desk and felt them grow heavy. He was tired, so tired, tired of everything.

He heard a sharp rap upon the classroom door but opted not to respond. Whoever it was could just sod off. It was almost the last day of term before the Christmas holidays, why would anyone be seeking him out? He remained sat in the same position, his eyes resolutely closed as the unmistakeable noise of the heavy dungeon door being opened creaked across the room.

His innate spy's instinct kicked into effect and he opened one eye the tiniest crack to indentify the disturber of his peace and quiet. He inwardly sighed. Granger. That mad hair and the fact she was not dressed in school uniform was immediately familiar to him. He shut his eye fully again, and feigned a deep sleep. It was a little childish, but preferable to engaging the insufferable know-it-all in conversation this late in the day, and out of lesson time.

Hermione Granger had returned for the first term of the school year, along with many of her cohort, to finish and sit the NEWT exams they had missed during their final year, due to the war and their prominent roles in it. All of them had been offered complimentary NEWTs which many, lazier students such as Potter and Weasley had accepted, but a large contingent had opted to return to the rebuilt Hogwarts and sit the exams properly. Since the school numbers were down due to the many young lives lost in the war, there was space to house these extra students. The NEWTs had been now been taken the previous week, and this last week of term those older students were moving back home.

His natural keen sense of hearing (one of his many bat-like qualities) meant he heard Granger tread lightly across the room towards him. He sensed her stand in front of his desk for a short while, she did not speak, perhaps out of fear of disturbing him, but she was definitely looking at him. He remained still.

He heard papers move on his desk, and the scratching of a quill. Was she leaving him a note? He decided not to ask, but to continue his pretence of being asleep. Reading her note was liable to be much easier than have to talk to the annoying girl. He could still hear the continued scratching of the quill, and also sensed some regular light bursts of magic waft across him with her signature attached to them. Merlin, was she writing him a bloody essay? However, he could not 'wake' now without appearing ridiculous.

At length, the writing stopped. Surely she must leave now? But no. He felt her move around to his side of the desk, and step extremely close to him. She was standing next to him, he presumed just watching him sleep. He could hear the soft inhale and exhale of her light breaths. All of a sudden, he felt a feather light touch between his eyebrows, where he had a deep furrow, a gentle pressure there, and she was rubbing softly, as if trying to ease the crease from his skin.

At his lack of response or protest, she added another finger, and then another, massaging his tense brow, moving up until her fingers were gently soothing in small circles and pressing upon his stressed, lined forehead.

"Professor Snape." She whispered as she ministered, as if she knew he was awake but did not want him to open his eyes or move, "Professor I am leaving this evening. I have visited all my professors to give my thanks before I leave Hogwarts for good, and you are no different." She paused.

"Actually, that is not entirely true. You _are_ different. I have never felt so utterly protected by someone as I have by you, Professor. You threw yourself before every danger for us, and we never realised, we never knew."

She moved even closer, added her other small, cool hand to his forehead, and slid her fingers up to rake through his long hair, pushing the black strands away from his face. It felt utterly divine. When had he ever been touched with such tenderness? He had no idea why he was permitting this chit of a _student_ to take such liberties with his person, but at that moment he was struggling to care. All he wanted was for her to continue, and he was damn sure she wouldn't if he was 'awake'. As she pushed his hair back in rhythmic strokes, her full breasts brushed against his face, she couldn't have any idea what she was doing to him, could she? He thanked the gods for his voluminous robes wrapped around him, concealing the slight straining at the front of his trousers.

"I am sorry that we did not give you the respect you deserved, and I thank you for every sacrifice you have made." Her fingers continued to rub with hypnotising pressure on his forehead and scalp.

"I can see you are tired, Professor Snape. I can only hope that one day you find the courage to live the life you desire, rather than what you feel is expected of you."

She slid her hands slowly, and almost reluctantly, from his face, before leaning down and placing her lips close to his ear.

"Be happy, Sir."

He heard her walk back across the room, and the heavy clunk of the door as it closed behind her. He waited a few more seconds before he risked opening his eyes. She had gone. What the buggering fuck had that all been about? Why had she touched him in that manner, and more importantly, why had he allowed it?

He reached under his robes to cup his trousered erection, which was hard and interested, and exhaled at the ridiculousness of his own appendage. _As if a shag with a student was ever on the cards_ , he castigated himself, and his inappropriate bodily response.

He sighed deeply, and pulled the essay parchments towards him again. To his surprise they were all marked, clearly and concisely in his favoured red ink. Flicking through them, she had even matched his handwriting and sarcastic style of commentary. That must have been the little bursts of magic he had felt. He chuckled in spite of himself.

Granger, though he would never tell her, was already an outstanding witch; subtle and talented with the brightest future ahead of her. She'd done all his tedious marking for him, and done it perfectly, in a fraction of the time, using a spell he wished he knew. She had relaxed and quieted his mind with just her fingertips. Oh, and not forgetting; she had also just given him a top-class erection and walked out of his life forever.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Hermione walked as quickly and quietly as her feet would carry her down the cold dungeon corridor, away from the closed door of Snape's Potions classroom. Her chest heaved with her own deep breathing, borne of surprise at her own daring, and the need to put as much distance as possible between herself and Hogwarts most feared professor whom she had just manhandled without invitation or permission.

She wasn't sure what on earth had possessed her to touch him in that manner, nor to use a modified homework-correcting spell of her own invention to mark the pile of essays that had been sitting in front of him, but what she did not feel was any regret. Her fingertips felt alive where they had been touching his warm skin.

All she knew was that as soon as she entered the dim classroom and saw her now former professor slumped back in his chair, his face etched with a map of worry lines, his body held tense even at rest, she had felt a rush of sympathy and regret at the fate that had befallen this powerful wizard. No matter that he had spent most of her schooldays terrorising most every child that crossed his path, the truth was now out, how he had stoically and selflessly protected them all, placing himself in danger time and time again, to receive only hate and disrespect in return.

As she crossed the room she had looked upon his exhausted face and been overcome with the need to just _do something_ for him. Not for thanks or reward, just to give something to this wizard who had given all he had and more. She had noted the pile of barely-started marking with the dipped red quill atop and had resolved to whizz her way through it at lightning speed; that was one way she could be of practical assistance.

After that, her reasoning became slightly skewed. She knew full well that Snape could not possibly be truly asleep. No doubt he had heard her as she opened the classroom door, and couldn't be bothered to talk to her so was feigning sleep. She had stepped lightly around the desk to stand next to him, and gazed upon his creased brow, wanting to erase the hateful lines that marred his strong features. Without really thinking about what she was doing, she had lifted her hand and begun to massage the sensitive skin between his eyebrows, ironing out the crease and the tension, as she had seen her mother do for her father many times when he had been stressed.

Meeting with no resistance she had continued to add fingers until she was giving attention to his whole forehead, raking her hands back through his hair. She was very sure that he did not realise the quiet but deep sighs of pleasure he was exhaling as she continued, and it made her shiver to know she was eliciting this reaction from him.

She knew that she would have to stop, that this little moment of bliss could not continue indefinitely, so after saying the words of thanks she had planned, and plenty more that had _not_ been planned, she took her leave and softly scampered from the room.

She felt that she could not breathe properly until she was back in the large dormitory that she shared with the other returning girls of her age. So as not to disturb the long-standing dormitory allocations in the House common rooms, the returners had been housed together in two large dorms, one male, one female, next to the Prefects bathroom of which they had full access.

She had no former Gryffindor dorm-mates with her. Lavender Brown had been mauled to death by Fenrir Greyback in the final battle, and Parvati Patil had opted not to return to Hogwarts. Out of the Gryffindor boys, only Neville Longbottom and Dean Thomas had returned. She was now sharing with a mixture of girls her age, made up of the returning girls from the four Houses. She had spent most time with the former Hufflepuffs Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones, not that she mixed that much at all however, preferring to spend her time in the quiet of the library, studying and working to get the best possible results she could. She needed to pass her exams, and move on.

Hogwarts was a different place without Harry and Ron. Whilst she had to concede it was much more peaceful without the threat of Lord Voldemort hanging over them, she missed the many fun and carefree times she'd enjoyed together here with her two best friends.

Both were taking a year off and playing professional Quidditch and Harry had been snapped up as Seeker by the Wimborne Wasps. He still cherished an ambition to become an Auror, and his training would start the following September. His relationship with Ginny was stronger than ever, and they had plans to live together in Grimmauld Place after Ginny had completed her seventh year at Hogwarts.

Ron was less organised as regards his future, he was playing everything by ear, seeing what happened. After a couple of months of frantic snogging sessions in a darkened Weasley living room after the final battle, Hermione and Ron had realised that whilst they were excellent friends, a deeper relationship between them was never really going to go anywhere. Ron wanted to coast and enjoy, Hermione wanted to study and achieve. Ron liked noise, Hermione liked quiet. Whilst there was a physical attraction there, neither had made a move beyond prolonged kissing - the spark just didn't seem hot enough.

They had ceased their romantic relationship after a short talk in the garden one afternoon, and now their friendship was pretty much as it always had been, lots of irresponsible behaviour from Ron, and much eye-rolling from Hermione. Both of them had been secretly relieved, and Harry most of all so.

She sat down on her four-poster bed for the final time. Her trunk was packed and Mr Weasley would shortly be here to collect her. It had been agreed that after completing her exams she would live at The Burrow for a few months while Ron and Harry were still away, and then after the summer when Ginny had finished her exams, all four of them would move into Grimmauld Place. None of them felt like living in the sinister old Black house alone, least of all Hermione.

She had secured a junior level position in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry, and was due to start after the Christmas holidays. She would travel to work at the Ministry with Arthur via the Floo network that was connected to The Burrow.

Hermione felt a pang of loss for her parents, as she did often. Her _Obliviate_ and their subsequent emigration to Australia had kept them safe during the war, by removing all knowledge of their witch daughter from their lives. In the future she hoped to travel to Australia to seek them out, not necessarily to try and reverse the spell, but certainly to see if they were happy and settled. Ron, Harry and the Weasleys were her family now.

The last four months at Hogwarts had been strange and confusing. Returning in September, those students who had missed sitting their NEWTs still sat at their House tables, no longer required to wear uniform but instead wore plain office wear covered by black work robes with a pin badge to denote their house. Hermione had sat at the Gryffindor table at the Welcome Feast with Neville and Dean and felt like bursting into tears – most unlike her.

The amount of places that had been left empty by the sheer number of students killed during the battle sent a poignant pervasion of grief through everyone. Hermione half-expected to see Colin Creevey bouncing around with his ubiquitous camera, before remembering she had been conversing with his ghost only minutes previously. Colin had opted to stay at Hogwarts for the present time, rather than going on.

Professor McGonagall, as the new Headmistress, had overseen the Sorting of the new students before introducing the new and returning members of staff. Hermione remembered being shocked at the sight of Professor Snape, looking pale and haunted in his usual black at the top table. She had heard via the court reports that he had barely survived the final battle, and that he had been exonerated of any charges of war crimes. She had never in a million years expected him to return to Hogwarts following his disastrous year as Headmaster.

Indeed some of those students who had been tortured during his tenure, including Ginny and Neville, looked most uncomfortable at the presence of the feared professor. Snape, for his part, looked wretched and as if he would rather be anywhere else but at the Welcome Feast, awaiting a new year of teaching Potions. Why was he here?

She wondered if he had anywhere else to go and the realisation that he probably did _not,_ hit her like a punch in the gut. She knew he was unmarried with no children, and that his parents had died many years previously. Did he even have a house? What did he do outside of Hogwarts? Did he have friends? She could not imagine him socialising.

These questions led to a train of thought and wondering that persisted during her final term at Hogwarts. She found herself fascinated by the dour, taciturn man, realising that she knew absolutely nothing about him beyond what his carefully selected pensieve memories had shown and been widely reported.

His apparent unease at returning to Hogwarts could not be seen in the classroom, where his manner of teaching was as strict and unrelenting as ever.

She wondered what he did when his working day was over. She wondered what thoughts danced through his dreams at night. She wondered if he had grander plans for the future or if he was here, simply marking time in a fog of depression until he retired or died. Hermione Granger loved a puzzle to solve and Professor Snape was an enigma that required the work of a serious codebreaker.

In short, she had become obsessed with Severus Snape.

As she levitated her heavy trunk to set it moving down to the entrance hall to meet Arthur, she mused that it was extremely fortunate that she had not noticed until today what her inquisitive obsession had become. A crush.

How completely embarrassing for a great mind like hers to be caught fancying her teacher. And not just any teacher, the sullen bat of the dungeon, reviled and feared.

She had not realised that her feelings went any deeper than being simply damn nosey until she had touched him. The heat of his skin felt like it was threatening to melt her sensitive fingertips and she'd had to restrain herself from intruding on his person more than she already had. The sighs of pleasure that he had breathed out as she gently massaged his scalp and forehead had gone straight to the seat of her pants, eliciting a warm throb that she had no experience of how to handle.

Thank goodness she was leaving before she embarrassed herself further.

She arrived in the entrance hall levitating the heavy trunk and was met with a warm embrace from Arthur Weasley.

"Are you ready, Hermione?" he asked her, smiling.

She grinned and nodded, turning to Professor McGonagall who had come to see her off, and warmly hugged the older witch.

"Thank you, Professor. For everything." She lightly kissed the cheek of her admired Head of House.

"Hermione, you are welcome at Hogwarts anytime. I will be happy to hear from you and I look forward to reading about what will surely be an illustrious career within the Ministry," McGonagall replied.

They hugged tightly again, and Hermione followed Arthur out of the main door, where he had taken over the levitation of her trunk as they walked down the long path towards the boar-topped gates. Arthur chattered away about how Molly had arranged Bill's old room for her, and how excited she was to having Hermione living with them.

Hermione looked around the dark Hogwarts grounds for the last time as a student. She marvelled at the enormous Black Lake, its inky surface sparkling in the moonlight. She looked up at the towers looming above them, one of them her beloved Gryffindor Tower where she had albeit grown up. She could see the light from the kitchens as the army of house-elves prepared the students supper. She looked down the hill to Hagrid's hut, where smoke chuntered merrily from the chimney and a rosy glow from his hearth fire lit the windows.

Finally she looked to the very foundations of the building where the seam of the dungeons would be. It was too dark to see any of the windows. Inside those stone walls was the unsolved mystery of a dark wizard who looked to be entirely alone in the world. She knew what Severus Snape had been. Her burning question was; who was he now?


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Minerva McGonagall watched her Potions Master covertly from the corner of her eye as he ate his breakfast and drank his morning coffee, loudly chewing his toast and slamming his cup down repeatedly. If there was a way to consume one's meal _angrily_ , Severus Snape certainly had the skill down to a fine art. It was the final morning of term and the students were in high spirits for the impending holidays. Their joy was not shared by Severus, whom she had ordered to the Infirmary for a health check-up with Madam Pomfrey once the students had left for the Hogwarts Express.

This morning's spectacular snit was no doubt caused by her intercepting him on the way to breakfast with the news that if he did _not_ visit the Infirmary to have his wounds and general state of health checked with the medi-witch, she would be summoning a healer from St Mungo's. She advised him that as Headmistress, part of her remit was to ensure the health and well-being of her staff. She knew that he had not been seen by a Healer since leaving Malfoy Manor in the summer, and told him she would be remiss in her duties if she did not have him checked over.

"Poppy will see you in the Infirmary directly the students have departed for Hogsmeade Station, Severus. Don't you even think of absconding." She had told him, firmly, waving a finger and brooking no argument or protest from the furious professor.

He had snarled his acquiescence before turning on his heel and stalking into the Great Hall for breakfast, his cloak billowing behind him in silent rage.

Minerva had no doubt that Severus knew she was watching him. His suspicious nature and innate spy's instinct was not going to desert him in a hurry. His lank hair hung around his eyes like curtains, shielding him, hiding him. She could see the wicked scars that leeched beyond the length of his sleeves on to the backs of his hands. Potions accidents indeed. _Not of all them_ , she thought, ruefully.

As he lifted his cup and cutlery in turn, her keen eye noted the slight tremor that betrayed his repeated exposure to the Cruciatus Curse, something else that would probably never leave him. Albus had told her that when he ordered Severus to return to Voldemort's ranks following his reincarnation, Severus had been Crucio'd to within an inch of his life before being returned to Hogwarts as a message to the old Headmaster. Minerva remembered watching Albus and Poppy Pomfrey work over Severus in the Infirmary that night, trying to repair the broken man, unsure whether he would live or die after such torture.

To everyone's amazement he had survived, survived to walk the precarious line between Voldemort and Dumbledore, subjected to the most appalling treatment and humiliation many times over, his need to pay his perceived debt to Lily Potter his only driving force.

Now the war was over, the Light had won, and the wizarding world was heralding in a new age of peace and tolerance. Minerva wondered where Snape's place would be in the brave new world. She was fairly certain it was not here at Hogwarts, the scene of some of his worst life experiences; however she also knew he considered the school his home, hence why she had sought to return him to the staff.

She remembered only too well the unkempt, skinny eleven-year-old who had arrived with his second-hand books and a vivacious red-headed Gryffindor as his only friend in the world. An angry boy with the worries of an adult on his thin shoulders. The sorting hat had deliberated for a fairly long time before placing Severus in Slytherin. How different his life might have been if his intellect had been nurtured in Ravenclaw, or if he had been placed with his childhood friend in Gryffindor.

As his Transfiguration professor and not his Head of House, Minerva had not had a huge amount of contact with Severus as a student, excepting his frequent run-ins with the Gryffindor boys in her House. She remembered with guilt how she had prioritised the needs of her brave, likeable but marauding cubs over the aggressive Slytherin boy with few friends and a penchant for exploring the Dark Arts. Perhaps if she had looked deeper, he might not have been driven to find friendship with those others who also became death eaters.

Could she do anything now, for the adult Severus? His childhood and youth were lost to him, but he was still a young wizard, just about to turn thirty-nine after Christmas, he had so much life ahead of him. Was it right that he spend it here, locked away in the dungeon? At least here she could protect him, care for his needs in a way that she had not whilst he was a student. She could ensure he ate well, received regular health checks, was employed in a job he excelled at, and thus receiving an income to live from. But she worried continuously for his state of mental health.

Snape finally lost patience with Minerva pretending she wasn't eyeballing him from beneath the brow of her preposterously large hat, and stood to leave the table, throwing his napkin down on his unfinished plate before exiting the Great Hall through the teachers' side door.

He arrived at the Infirmary at the allotted time and in foul humour. Poppy Pomfrey decided she was going to pay it no attention, lest she inflame him further, and ushered him to a curtained bed to begin her health check. He sat unmoving upon the high hospital-style metal bed.

"Come along, Severus, you know the routine," she chided, "off with your coat and shirt unbuttoned please, and remove the glamour from your neck."

He rolled his eyes at her in annoyance, but since there was no point in prolonging the experience, he complied with her request. Madam Pomfrey had known him for a long time, he had been a frequent visitor to the infirmary many times during his time as a Hogwarts student, and she had repaired him more times than he could count during his time as a death eater spy. He had very few secrets from her, physically speaking; she knew every tattered, scarred inch of him.

When he had disrobed the specified amount, she approached him and began to check over the ragged scar tissue on his neck. He shuddered slightly as she ran her fingers over the ruined skin.

"This is healing nicely. I see you have been continuing with the skin balm that Healer Faldo prescribed you."

"I mix it myself, Madam. Fresh is much better than the stored muck from the St Mungo's cupboard."

"Well, fresh or otherwise, it is working. Of course, there is nothing to be done about appearance of the scar other than a glamour, but the important thing is that the repaired skin is healthy and free from infection."

He raised an eyebrow at her but did not respond. She picked up her wand, bade him lie down on the bed, and prepared to cast some standard diagnostics across his body. He was still too thin, but she had seen him thinner in the past, to the point of emaciation, she had felt at the time. He was a lean man, but could still stand to gain some weight on his frame.

"I am eating as much as I can without requiring new robes to be ordered." He drawled, sardonically.

"Ever the Legilimens, Severus," she told him, kindly.

"No need for Legilimency, Poppy. Every thought is written across your face. I am well aware that since we first met you have been trying to fatten me up." He crooked the corner of his mouth in an attempt at a smile.

"Oh, Severus." She sighed. The troubled young boy had been become a troubled young man, and now as an adult he seemed just as burdened as ever. She pushed his shirt back and began to examine the flesh wounds across his chest, some of them very old scars now, checking for anything new and for any sign of infection. All seemed well, and she bade him turn over so she could examine his back, stripping his shirt from him as he settled himself on his chest. This was much worse, as many of the scars had been made with a magical whip which had left cursed scars that would never fully heal. She applied some soothing magical calendula balm and left it to sink into his abraded skin while she continued to cast diagnostics with her medi-witch's wand.

There had been no doubt in her mind that the young Severus Snape had suffered abuse at home. As a child he would stay at Hogwarts during the shorter Christmas and Easter holidays, only returning home for the long summer hols because he was required to. Each September he would return with all her hard work over the previous year undone, thinner and dirtier than when he had left, littered with cuts and bruises and an angry attitude that worsened each year.

He had lost his virginity in the summer before the start of his seventh year, this showed up automatically in diagnostics, not that she told the students, and strangely this was also the summer she was advised that his parents had passed away. He had refused point blank to discuss his parents' deaths with her. Becoming sexually active did not seem to enhance his life, as it did so many of the other young wizards, if anything he became angrier and more resentful of the world. When he left after sitting his NEWTs, he was no longer friends with Miss Evans and spent all his time hanging around with a group of Slytherin boys known for their unhealthy interest in the Dark Arts. She feared for his future, and had been right to do so.

Running her wand over his bottom and down his legs she found nothing untoward, so opted to leave him the dignity of retaining his trousers.

"Well, Severus, I think that concludes my examination today. Just lay there a little longer to allow the balm to be fully absorbed by the skin on your back, please."

He turned his head to the side to look at the old nurse. "And what is your diagnosis, Madam?"

"Nothing unexpected. You need to gain some more weight, but your nutrient levels are satisfactory. Do not drink too much firewhisky please, your liver needs time to rest occasionally. You need to take better care of the skin on your back; some of the old wounds are not scarring properly and are still livid and red."

"They do not cause a huge amount of discomfort, and I cannot see them, so what is the point of lavishing any particular attention up them? Unless of course you are offering to regularly massage healing unguents into my ruined back, I cannot say this is an entirely unpleasant experience?"

"Don't be cheeky, young man." She was as professional as ever, but bestowed a small smile upon the lonely professor. "And although you might not be able to see your back, a nice witch certainly will."

He snorted in derision.

"Sadly I do not have the company of any nice witches, and those I do know would certainly not be interested in a wreck such as myself."

"Oh come now. You are a fairly young wizard still; surely you cannot be ruling yourself out of any further physical contact for the rest of your life?"

"My hand and I have excellent physical contact, Poppy. Most mornings a good hard wank in the shower sets me up most satisfactorily for the day."

"Don't be coarse, Severus. You know very well that there is much more to a relationship than sexual release."

"Do I? I'm not sure I have ever had that pleasure, and it is highly unlikely I ever will. Now, are you finished, may I please reclothe myself and leave?"

Madam Pomfrey nodded, and watched with a slight sadness as he hopped from the bed, pulling his shirt on, his back still slightly slick with the healing balm. He added his frock coat, his armour, before bidding her farewell with a curt nod and stalking out of the infirmary.

Whatever could she do for this dour young wizard? All his life he had seemed to be on a self-destructive trajectory, lurching from one heap of trouble to the next. He had always been socially awkward, having difficulty making and retaining friends, his arrogant desire to be right, to be the best, to prove himself; had made him more enemies than friends, and had landed him squarely in the enticing clutches of the death eaters.

Physically he was healing; there was no doubt about that. He was a strong, powerful wizard, despite his slender frame, and his inherent power was assisting his recovery. No, his mind was where the problem was. Like many people abused in childhood, he had trust and anger issues, a nasty streak, and was impatient, rude and secretive.

She pulled out his huge medical folder from the filing cabinet to update with the notes from this morning's check-up, it was crammed full with details of his childhood injuries and illnesses, her recording of her suspicions of child abuse, and the many times she had repaired his shattered body as an adult, following various summons by Voldemort.

What he needed was the unwavering love of a good witch to care for his mind and soothe his fractured soul. But she wasn't sure there was a woman alive who could provide the emotional support he would need, breaking down his solid protective walls, receiving nothing in return. Who would willingly enter such a one-sided relationship? What on earth could Severus Snape have to offer, when he needed so very much in return?


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Christmas Day was an ebullient affair in The Burrow, as always. As a full resident this time, rather than a seasonal visitor, Hermione had seen how much effort and preparation Molly Weasley put into making Christmas a truly wonderful time for her family. Hermione had been given Bill's old room, and free rein to change or decorate anything that she wished. With a comfortable wooden bed, a large warm striped rug across the floor and empty drawers and wardrobe ready for her, the otherwise empty room hadn't needed much doing apart from adding her own belongings. She felt very cosy and welcome.

On 25th December the haphazard Burrow was packed to the rafters, even Charlie had come home from the dragon sanctuary in Romania for the holiday and was currently irritating his mother in the kitchen by imitating a large Chinese Fireball, complete with sound effects. Through the laughter, everyone was keenly aware this was their first Christmas without Fred, although no one said as much.

Bill and Fleur were snuggled together, kissing and cuddling, in a large armchair, celebrating their second Christmas as a married couple and their first not in the middle of a war. Molly was starting to make noises about grandchildren, and if the couple got any closer, Hermione felt they might start making her one right there in the corner of the living room.

A more sombre Percy, newly reinstated into the family, his curly red hair streaked with premature grey and a pinched expression on his face, talked Ministry business with Arthur and sometimes herself. George and his girlfriend Angelina Johnson were wrapped up warm and stomping about the garden in the snow, clearly George needed some breathing space from the festivities. Not surprisingly the death of his twin had affected every facet of his life, right down to the business they ran together, but in typical Fred-and-George fashion he was coping admirably well, on the face of it. Getting together with his former Gryffindor Quidditch team-mate Angelina had gone a long way towards making George Weasley smile again.

Ron, Harry and Ginny, the 'children' of the group, lolled on the living room floor, snacking, chatting and generally making merry, and it helped that Ron no longer wanted to punch Harry every time he laid a hand affectionately upon his sister. Ron and Harry conversed eagerly about their exploits during their first season of playing professional quidditch. From what she could gather, Ron had slept his way around the female players on his team already, and was looking forward to travelling the following season for, his unflattering term was, _fresh meat_. Harry loudly professed that Ginny was the only witch for him, earning him a lingering kiss from his girlfriend and a gagging motion from his best friend.

Hermione curled up in a battered old wingback chair close to the fire and surveyed her family, as that is what they truly were now. It would be impossible to find a more full-hearted group of people than the Weasleys. They opened their home and hearts to anyone who was in need. No wonder Harry had felt drawn to Ron's generous and giving nature when they met that first time on the Hogwarts Express.

Her education was complete, just waiting on those all-important NEWT scores, she was starting work at the Ministry in January, the wizarding world was at peace, and no she didn't currently have a boyfriend, but as if that was something that would cause any consternation to Hermione Granger. She looked forward to meeting new people, both witches and wizards, when she started her new job. Everything, on the surface was good.

So the way her thoughts kept turning to the silent, dark wizard she had left feigning sleep in the Hogwarts dungeons was most discombobulating. What _was_ this irritating little obsession she had developed with her former Potions professor?

During dinner, Ginny had made some throwaway remarks about Professor Snape; regarding his appearance and impatient teaching style that had made Hermione want to throw roast potatoes at her head, one after the other, for every mean comment. She wasn't really sure why she felt the need to defend or protect him. She was well-known for always standing up for the oppressed, but Severus Snape was hardly an enslaved house-elf. It didn't help that most of the others had either agreed, or remained silent.

Harry had shuffled awkwardly in his seat, not wanting to engage in discussions regarding a man about whom his feelings ranged considerably. Through the bottled memories he had received from the dying wizard in the Shrieking Shack, Harry had finally been given the truth about Snape's loyalties during the war, but also found it difficult to reconcile this with the bullying he had received from the biased professor throughout his time at school. He had the utmost respect for Snape's daring and bravery, but also found his obsession with his late mother a little creepy. Hermione noticed Harry move the conversation on to another subject rather sooner than was strictly polite.

She thought of him, leaning back in the chair and giving herself permission to do so. She wondered if he was alone in the dungeons, or whether he had somewhere to go for Christmas. The thought of the brave man, who had suffered so much for his decisions, sitting resolutely by himself in a cold room without knowing that anyone cared, affected her deeply and profoundly. Without thinking too much on what she was about to do, she silently got up from the chair and slipped out of the back door into the overgrown garden, out of sight of George and Angelina, behind the chicken sheds, and fired off her patronus, giving it whispered instructions before watching her little silvery otter gambol off into the distance leaving nothing but a wispy glittering trail in its wake.

Too late, she weighed up the decision that she could have been completely wrong. Professor Snape could have a group of friends with whom he was currently eating, drinking and making merry. He could have a girlfriend, a beautiful dark-haired witch with whom he might be sharing a particular kind festive cheer with in a sumptuous bedroom. He could have family; parents or siblings maybe, and was ensconced in all manner of warm Christmas frivolity.

But somehow, she just didn't think so.

\- xxx –

Severus was sitting at a work bench in his private laboratory at the school, finishing up a turkey leftovers sandwich that had been brought to him by a house-elf. He had consumed a full Christmas lunch in the Great Hall earlier, under the watchful eye of Madam Pomfrey who appeared delighted with his ingestion of excess calories, along with other members of staff and a few remaining students.

He had made the excuse of having a potion that needed attention in order to leave the meal table as soon as the pudding had been cleared. Merlin forbid he engaged in any frivolity for longer than necessary.

He had thrown his restrictive frock coat on to his armchair as he walked through his chambers to the lab, loosening his shirt at the collar and rolling up his sleeves. His dark mark burned black against the porcelain-white skin of his left forearm, and he curled his lip in revulsion at his own body. Pulling his hair back with a band, he set about brewing a complicated variant of Wolfsbane that he had been researching. The long Christmas period had given him a large window to experiment freely and without interruption.

A few hours later, interrupted he was.

He looked up from his high stool where he was perched, alternately poring over his messily handwritten notes, and giving his test cauldron a cursory stir with a willow stick. A silvery patronus in the form of a perky little otter flew through the wall, riding a wave of shiny grey mist. It approached him immediately, and he waited for it to speak, this was clearly a message of some sorts, although he did not recognise the creature, despite searching his memory bank for anyone of his acquaintance whose patronus took the form of an otter.

The otter did not speak, and remained sitting in front on him on the work bench on its hind legs, staring at him.

Snape raised an irritated eyebrow at the creature. "Yes?"

The sound of his voice seemed galvanise the little otter into action, and it sped up his arm and around his head, before pinging off around the pristine lab, hitting the corners and leaving silvery glitter hanging in bunches like tied festive mistletoe. It was not unlike a muggle pinball machine, and Severus choked back a surprised laugh, in spite of himself. Someone obviously thought he needed a little decoration. He suspected Poppy, but remembered her patronus was weak and non-corporeal.

The room was starting to look like Christmas had vomited everywhere, with sparkling silver lights and glitter festooned everywhere, and the otter showed no signs of stopping. Since it would not speak to him, perhaps it would respond to his own doe patronus. He had not cast it for a very long time, the last being to guide Potter to where he had left the Sword of Gryffindor in the forest during the dying days of the war.

He struggled to come up with a happy memory, even his own failsafe of private time spent with a young Lily Evans did not result in the doe springing forth from the end of his wand. He wracked his brains, and eventually conceded that being manhandled by Miss Granger, no matter how inappropriate it was, was a recent and pleasant enough memory. He closed his eyes and remembered the touch of her soft fingertips upon his brow, her small fingers raking through his hair, caressing his scalp, and feel of her covered breasts against his cheek as she leaned against him.

 _Expecto Patronum._

It had been enough. Allowing himself to settle into the sensual memory, a large fox, formed from silver mist, leapt from his wand.

A fox? Where was his doe?

The fox looked cunning and wily, a knowing look in its eyes. It looked mature and somewhat ragged, a little like himself, he supposed. He knew of course that a wizard's patronus could sometimes change, following times of great stress or emotional upheaval, or a significant change in feelings and life outlook. Did the arrival of this fox mean that he was finally free of the guilt he felt over the murder of Lily Potter? His patronus had been a doe to match Lily's since his first casting.

The misty fox chased after the silvery otter, grabbing the small creature by the scruff of the neck, and bringing it down to the far corner of Snape's workbench. The otter seemed to calm itself immediately, and as the fox curled itself into a languid ball as if to sleep, the otter curled up with it, and the fox swished its tail over the otter much like a blanket. Both animals glimmered as they slept together, before the mist dispersed and he was left looking at an empty bench, and a room devoid of silver decorations.

He shook his head as if to disperse his befuddled thoughts like the mist. What an unusual occurrence. It was extremely rare that Severus Snape was ever surprised, or even baffled, but he had to confess himself both at that moment. Someone had sent him that patronus, without a verbal message and to wreak merry festive havoc in his private lab. Furthermore, the otter had been calmed and quieted by his own patronus, who had guided the smaller creature to rest, curled protectively around it.

Quite apart from the shock of seeing his brand-spanking-new fox patronus, the arrival of the otter intent on decorating his chambers could mean only one thing. Someone was thinking about him. Could it be possible, that someone cared? He could not think, in the name of all Merlin's empire, of someone who would lower themselves to care about _him_.

Unexpectedly, he found himself somewhat cheered by the whole experience.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

It was a wet Saturday morning in February when Harry, Ron and Hermione apparated to the Hogwarts gates to spend the day with Ginny and Luna, who were in their seventh year, and with Neville, who had remained at Hogwarts to apprentice in Herbology under Professor Sprout. They had planned to lunch and spend the afternoon in Hogsmeade before returning to the castle for dinner in the Great Hall.

Professor McGonagall would agree to anything for Harry Potter, and they had also been provided with a guest room each for the night, to enable them to pass a pleasant evening with their friends in Gryffindor Tower without concern for the time. Luna and Neville were currently attempting to date one another, not an easy task with one of them a student and the other a first-year teaching apprentice, but it had not been frowned upon, so long as the two of them maintained separate quarters. It meant that Hermione and Ron would be slightly third-wheeling with the two couples, but she was sure that it wouldn't be too awkward; it was months now since they had ended their relationship, and they would be living alongside Harry and Ginny soon enough anyway.

The trip had come about because the Wimborne Wasps were not playing that weekend, freeing Harry up for an unexpected few days, and Ginny had begged him to visit, and had even sought out McGonagall for special permission. Ron was yet again _between teams_ , and more than happy to come along. Hermione did not work weekends, Monday to Fridays in the bowels of the Ministry were more than enough.

She had started her job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures in early January and had been immediately given a baptism of fire as she entered a department in disarray following the resignation of both the head and deputy on the same day. Her ability to work using her own initiative, natural logic and need for order had proved invaluable in the chaos, and she quickly realised there was no one available to train her, and that the remaining staff members were happy to let her learn the ropes on her own if it meant they didn't have to give up precious time to show her how to climb them.

Once a new department head had been assigned, Pridmore Ulbrecht, he wasted no time in rescinding Hermione's junior status and giving her a full role on the staff team, with a rise in galleons to match. Financially she was very stable, paying Arthur and Molly a generous sum for her board and lodgings, and squirreling away plenty of excess in her Gringotts account for when they all moved to Grimmauld Place in the summer.

Her work was more than a full-time job, however, she was very emotionally invested in why Magical Creatures had to be regulated or controlled at all, and had vowed to learn all she could whilst working at the lower levels of the department, in order to make a real difference when she rose through the ranks.

She was very much looking forward to a couple of days' change of scenery, getting away from the Burrow and the Ministry, and seeing her dearest friends. There was also the small matter of possibly running into one Professor Snape, whose dark persona still stalked through her dreams at night, and billowed through her mind by day.

"The Golden Trio, back at Hogwarts again!" Ron exclaimed in a dramatic manner as they walked up the long path from the gates towards the castle.

Harry and Hermione gave each other eye-rolling looks at their friend's enthusiasm.

"Ron, don't be a prat, mate. We're just visiting." Harry admonished, good-naturedly, waving into the distance as he noticed Neville Longbottom lolloping down the hill to meet them.

Neville's long stride, and the fact that he was on a downward slope meant he was soon upon them, issuing great bear hugs and words of welcome. His face was streaked with a smear of brown soil and his fingernails stained permanently green from his work in the Herbology department. He also looked as happy as they could ever remember. His dream job and his dream girl clearly agreed with him – nothing unusual about that.

\- xxx –

Severus entered the Great Hall that evening for dinner and was infinitely surprised, when looking up from the teachers table to scan around the hall, to see Potter, Granger and Weasley sitting at the Gryffindor table. Since it was a weekend, no students were in uniform so they did not look at all that incongruous, however he had to admit it was a shock to see them there.

He raised a questioning eyebrow at Minerva, looking first at her, and then across to Potter and his sidekicks.

"They're just visiting, Severus," she advised, in rather too loud a voice down the staff table, causing students in the front rows to look up.

"I wasn't aware that Hogwarts was opening up a second line as a hotel, Minerva," he replied, in a rather disapproving tone.

"It will be a poor day at Hogwarts the day we cannot offer shelter to one of our own. They are visiting their friends and are staying the night on the guest corridor. Don't be awkward, please; it does not affect you in any way."

He did not respond but glowered at the headmistress until she returned to her meal. None of the other professors seemed to think there was anything untoward, but then he supposed none of the other professors had been having wet dreams about former student Hermione Granger, either. He risked a covert glance at the girl herself.

She was sitting with her face visible, chatting animatedly to all those around her. Her smile lit up the room. Her clothing was mature and well-fitting, and when she stood to fetch her pudding from the dessert board at the side of the room he could not help but notice the way her tight jeans clung to her arse.

He castigated himself for being a disgusting old pervert and used a great deal of Occlumency skill to force the image of her massaging his forehead with her breasts on his cheek out of his mind.

Hermione looked up from her place at the Gryffindor table to sneak a look at the wizard who currently occupied most of her thoughts. He was looking angrily at his plate, attacking his dinner as if it had personally offended him.

She kept her eyes discreetly on him, and was soon rewarded when he lifted his head, and her face was the first target his eyes aimed for. Their eyes locked and neither appeared to be able to look away. Hermione could feel her breaths quickening and her cheeks beginning to flush. With great effort, she wrenched her brown eyes from his black ones, bringing her back into focus with her dinner companions.

"You alright, Hermione?" Ron asked, through a mouthful of golden syrup pudding.

"Yes, yes of course. Just eaten too much I think." She smiled warmly, and slipped apparently effortlessly back into the conversation.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the Potions Master rise and leave the Great Hall, without a second glance.

\- xxx –

Much later that evening, after a riotous evening within the red tapestry strewn walls of Gryffindor's common room, Hermione was tripping through the silent castle towards the guest corridor, linking arms with Harry and Ron, who had both drunk a little too much mead, as they went.

Both she and Ron were mocking Harry, who had needed to be yanked firmly from Ginny's person to allow them to leave the common room. The couple wanted nothing more than to spend the night together, but so far that had been impossible with Ginny being at school and any other time spent at the Weasleys.

However, McGonagall had insisted that were this visit to go ahead, there was to be absolutely _no funny business_ , and that she expected all of them to be sleeping in their own bedrooms. Harry and Ginny both had too much respect for the mature witch to defy her, however difficult it had been to say goodnight.

Ron was teasing Harry about having blue balls, and suggested he engage in a judicious wank before bed in order to avoid having to explain the wet sheets to the house-elves in the morning. Harry gave him a well-aimed and well-deserved kick in the arse.

They reached their allotted rooms and Hermione bid her friends goodnight, before entering her guest chamber which was dimly lit with a couple of small candles, and finding her overnight bag waiting for her on the already turned-down bed. She went to the small bathroom to wash and change, slipping into some soft pyjama bottoms and a cotton vest before heading over to the window to pull the drapes.

Her room looked out over the Black Lake, glittering under the stars. Beautiful. She would never tire of that view. Settling herself on the cushioned window seat she gazed out over the familiar grounds, drinking in their appearance until the next time she could be here.

One of the shadows on the side of the lake moved, and after taking a moment to focus her eyes properly she realised that it was a tall, black haired, black cloaked figure standing at the edge of the lake. There was only one person who would be standing by the lake at this hour of the night and it certainly wasn't a student. She had the strangest feeling that she was _supposed_ to see him.

Without stopping to think about the good sense of what she was doing, she grabbed the blanket from the bed, and barefooted, hastened out of the door. She flew down the back stairs, this castle more familiar to her than own home, and out of a side door that creaked miserably when she pushed against it.

When she felt the wet grass beneath her bare feet, she slowed her pace, and attempted to control her frantic breathing. She walked towards the lake, seeing him in the distance and every cold step taking her closer to him.

Severus heard her approach. He had heard the creak of the door as she left the castle, and heard her breathing as she moved closer and stood behind him. Somehow he had known she would come. For a while he was utterly bereft of what to say. Their only previous contact had been wordless and sensual.

"Why did you touch me, Miss Granger?" his deep voice echoed around them.

She did not immediately respond with an answer, and after a short time he turned around to face her. She looked like a forest nymph, her wild curls tipping down her back and clad only in pyjamas with a Hogwarts blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her feet were bare. He stared at her until she lifted her eyes to his.

"You looked like you needed it," she responded, simply.

He raised his eyebrow at her, unsatisfied with her incomplete answer.

"Do you remember what I said to you that night, Sir?" she asked.

He had not expected her to reply with a question, and therefore only nodded.

"I could see that you were tired. I still think that. I wanted to do something for you."

"Do something for me? As in a favour, a little helping hand, was it?" he sneered at her in an ugly fashion, desperate to protect himself.

She took a small step towards him, daringly placing her hand upon his chest, and he could feel his heart speed up beneath her fingers.

"Sir, it wasn't until I touched you; that I realised how very much I wanted to do so."

He stood impassive, not removing her hand from his chest, but not making any further move lest he misinterpret the girl's meaning. He wasn't entirely sure he was not dreaming this whole situation.

"What do you mean?" he questioned, suspiciously.

"I mean, I entered your classroom to thank you, and left wanting to never remove my hands from you again," she spluttered out, lest her confidence desert her in her moment of candour. "If you really want to know, really want to embarrass me completely, I have thought of little else apart from you since that night. I don't know what I feel for you, Professor, but it is certainly something."

He looked at her, dumbfounded, not sure if she was about to cry from his lack of response. It started to rain, quickly becoming heavy as the rapidly falling drops began to soak them both through. Thinking sensibly for a brief moment, he grabbed her upper arm and pulled her towards the edge of the forest, beneath the cover of the thick, tall trees. Once there he had no inclination to let go of her, and yanked her towards him, rain dripping from his hair and off the end of his long nose.

"Merlins bollocks, girl, do you realise what you are asking? Do you not know who I am? Do you not know what I have done?" he snarled, realising he was fighting the urge to kiss her with every fibre of his shaking body.

She flinched at his heavy touch, but made no move to extricate herself.

"I'm not asking for anything. I'm just answering your question. And yes, I know _who you are_. You don't scare me, Sir. You ... you ... _excite_ me."

She had gone for broke. Shit.

Hermione held his gaze, searing his eyes with her own. She would not be the first to look away. She watched him process her words, his black eyes glittering like the surface of the lake. She saw confusion, hurt, disbelief, and finally ... desire. He gripped her upper arms even tighter in his large hands, pushing the useless blanket to the wet forest floor.

" _Fucking hell,_ Hermione, what are you saying?" his voice dropped to an even lower timbre as he shook her slightly and pulled her close against him, moving his lips beneath her hair and directly next to her ear.

"You, girl, are perfection itself. I would like nothing better than to ravage you, right here in the forest. But I would be a very bad man, the worst of wizards, if I allowed myself even the slightest taste of you."

His hot, heavy breaths tickled unbearably upon her ear as he slowly drawled the words, and she felt his erection pressing against her stomach through the thin material of her pyjamas. She was in very unfamiliar territory, despite snogging Ron on repeated occasions, nothing; _nothing_ had even come close to the feelings that were now coursing through her inexperienced body. But yet she was not afraid, she was completely turned on. Snape's sheer intensity was sending shockwaves of arousal into every pore, by his words alone.

She was abruptly reminded of his hypnotic opening words at her first ever Potions lesson, _I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses,_ well he was certainly bewitching her mind and ensnaring all her bloody senses at this precise moment.

She moved her head back so she could look at his face. It was soaking wet with the rain, as was hers, but contorted with desperation and fear, arousal and horror, all at the same time. She had never seen his famously neutral face so expressive. All of a sudden she knew exactly what she wanted, and needed to do.

Swallowing back her nerves, she clasped her wet hands to either side of his face, and slowly drew his head towards her. He began to gently shake his head, but before he could get any words out she had touched her lips lightly to his, holding them still there while he composed himself. When he stopped shaking, she drew back slightly, keeping her lips close to his, but not touching. He would have to bridge the gap if he wanted more; she had made her desire clear.

"Hermione," he whispered, his surprisingly soft lips brushing hers as he spoke, "Hermione, you cannot possibly want this, want _me_."

She smiled against his lips.

"Well frankly, it was a surprise to me too, Sir."

He barked out a short laugh and it broke the tension somewhat.

"Sir?" he arched that eyebrow, now dripping with rain.

" _Severus_ ...," she tested, rolling the delicious and unfamiliar word around her mouth for the first time.

He was lost at the sound of his given name from her lips. He slid his hands quickly up from her arms and grasped her head, insinuating his long fingers into her hair, and tilting her face to the correct angle for him to lean forward and press his mouth, _finally_ , hard against hers, his tongue greedily requesting entrance to plunder every depth of her.

Hermione thought her knees would buckle as she opened her mouth and his rapier sharp tongue dove in and began to mate with hers. Never had she been kissed with such desperation, such reverence, such passion. He was making almost inhuman noises as he moved his lips upon her, guilt mixed with desire making a heady cocktail that was pushing him to new heights.

He moved one strong arm down to clamp around the small of her back, holding her body to the front of his and grinding his rock hard erection against her. Her pyjamas were soaked through and _that_ bit wasn't due to the rain. She had never felt so desired in all her life. She reached up and grasped handfuls of his soaking wet hair, digging her small fingers into the back of his neck and was rewarded with a deepening of his kiss, if that was even possible. She released little squeals of delight and he swallowed them down as he continued to snog her to incoherence.

All of a sudden, she was clamped to him and they were flying. Flying across the grounds and through the open door in the side of the castle, and along the wide, high corridors to the guest wing. She could not see him, it was like she was holding smoke, and she vividly remembered him turning to smoke to escape an enraged McGonagall the night of the final battle.

He flew them in through the open door of her guest suite, he either knew which one was hers, or had guessed it (presumably the open door gave it away) and came to a halt upon the scarlet rug in the middle of the stone-floored room.

He was back to holding her arms again, holding her away from him. His lips were swollen with her kisses and his eyes volcanic black with desire.

"Forgive me, Miss Granger, for my appalling lack of good sense and good manners. I could use all the words in my not inconsiderable vocabulary to describe how utterly bewitching you are, and how very much I want to continue, but I cannot. I have done too much harm in my life to allow myself to inflict any more. I will not permit it. You have no use for a damaged wizard twenty years your senior. My shame shall not be yours. You are perfect, clean and whole. It is my wish that you remain that way."

He let go of her arms, turned himself to smoke again and departed the room before allowing her to utter a word.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Snape careered down the corridors and stairwells like a silent black cyclone until he reached his own dungeon corridor, whereupon he cancelled the flying spell and walked the rest of the distance to his classroom door with his trademark swift, silent footsteps. Pushing it open so hard it crashed again the stone wall behind it before slamming shut again, he stalked through the immaculate Potions classroom before reaching the three stairs behind his desk that led to the warded door of his private quarters.

His wards released as he approached, recognising his ownership, and he turned the metal door knob to enter his living room. Flicking the door shut behind him in annoyance, he cast a locking and silencing spell before falling to his knees on the middle of the dark emerald living room rug.

Bringing his hands up to his face, as if to catch tears that would never come, he felt the wetness of his cloak begin dripping on to the deep-pile rug, while letting out a noise of tortured pain. What on earth had possessed him allow the meeting by the lake to progress where it had? How dare he, vile soul that he was, permit himself to take liberties with an innocent girl, and a former _student_ no less?

When he had heard Granger arrive behind him as he looked out across the Black Lake; and his instinct told him it could not be anyone else, he should have never engaged her in any kind of conversation, let alone anything ... _else_ that had just occurred. That was his responsibility as an adult and as her former teacher. And what had he done instead was interrogate her about something she was no doubt extremely embarrassed about, before molesting her person. No matter that her light touching of his face while she believed him to be asleep was one of the most gentle touches he had ever received, and that her kindness at that time had made him want to weep, she should not have to bear the depth of his twisted feelings on the matter.

She was barely two months out of Hogwarts. Of irrelevance was the fact that at any other time, aside from the delay in completing her education caused by the conclusion of the war, she would have been well over a year out of school, in his wretched life the one thing that Severus Snape had _never_ done was to interfere with a student in his care. By kissing Miss Granger in that fashion, no matter whether she instigated it or not, it felt horribly like the falling of the final bastion of self-respect that he retained. He truly was a miserable excuse for a wizard, and a teacher.

Feeling the water pool around his knees, soaking into the rug, he stood up and angrily threw off his outer clothing, banishing them to a coat stand in the corner of the room where they continued to drip puddles on his living room floor. He sat on his hard, faded grey sofa to remove his boots and socks, and rolled up the sleeves of his only slightly-damp shirt. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his wet hair falling into his face, he opened his hands in front of him, palms up as if in supplication.

He recalled the intense pleasure that had ignited in every synapse of his body as he had ground his clothed hardness against her in the forest. His long-neglected cock had felt like all its birthdays had arrived at once. Feeling her divine softness against his pulsing, urgent need had almost driven him out of his mind with the desire to throw the girl to the rough twig-strewn forest floor and bury himself as deep inside her warmth as it was possible to be.

It had taken every ounce of his much-vaulted self-control to launch them into flight and return Miss Granger to her room. There was clearly no possibility of the two of them having a sensible conversation and making a sensible decision to stop. He was the adult and he needed to wrest back control of the situation, and the only way his traitorous libido was going to release him was by removing himself from the girl's presence as quickly as humanly possible.

Remembering the confused and hurt look that had crossed her face as he had pushed her away from him once they had landed in her guest room, a fresh wave of guilt passed over him. He had tried his best to apologise and explain in the most articulate manner that possessed him at that moment, but she was undeniably and visibly shaken. He could only hope that she would soon be able to put the whole incident behind her quickly and forget all about it.

He thought vaguely of her words, he would forget none of them. He had rarely in his life ever been the recipient of such kindness. She had told him that she had touched him that day in the Potions classroom because she had felt like he'd needed it, for no other reason than compassion. The conversation had rapidly skewed at an unexpected angle however, when she had confessed that she had enjoyed touching him, taken her pleasure from his. She had also revealed that she _felt something_ for him. For him. A murdering demon with a shattered soul. He did not even want to think about the implications of those words just at present, not when he was so precariously close to a complete loss of control.

Finally she had said that he ... he _excited_ her. What a preposterous notion. As if a beautiful, intelligent, immaculate young witch would find herself in any way sexually attracted to the old greasy git of the dungeon, the bullying, partisan teacher whom she had despised throughout her schooldays.

But her physical reaction made a mockery of his denial. She was returning his kiss as fully as he was delivering it. When he had thrust his hips and ground his hard, aching cock against her she had not fled in disgust but met him in his rotation, letting go with little gasps into his plundering mouth which he had eagerly swallowed up. She had curled her hands deliciously into his wet hair, gently pulling the thin strands in her little fists as if trying to tug his pleasure unwillingly from him.

Enough. _Enough now_. He could still feel a stirring in his groin, despite his guilt and self-loathing. He had no right to feel this way. He had taken his pleasure at the command of the Dark Lord in the most horrific and basest ways possible, dark deeds that had no place anywhere near the likes of Hermione Granger.

He drew his wand and sent a slicing hex akin to a small blade along his arm, creating a shallow gash and feeling a strange sense of satisfaction and release as fresh red blood oozed slowly from the wound. He withdrew and then sent another, this time tracking across the surface of the dark mark, giving him a curious sense of power as he defaced the lines of the accursed brand. He was on his fourth stroke when his blood started to drip onto the rug below him.

\- xxx –

Hermione stood unsteadily in the middle of her Hogwarts guest room, her body panting with unfulfilled sexual desire and her mind whirring at speed, attempting to process the reasoning behind what had just happened.

Ever the logician, her first inane thought was that she had left the scarlet blanket from her bed in the Forbidden Forest, and she felt rather guilty about that, so she opened a window and summoned the wet heap with a quick _Accio_ , and ducked as it flew over her head with an additional wave of her vinewood wand and arranged itself over the bath to dry.

Whilst in the bathroom she noted her bedraggled appearance and aimed a good drying spell over herself that drew the water from her clothes and hair, followed by a warming charm to restore her body temperature to normal. Away from the scorching hot passion of her professor's embrace, she had realised just how cold she really was, and how incredibly stupid it had been to run outside barefoot and scarcely dressed on a wet February night in Scotland.

Once dry, she sent an _Incendio_ towards the grate to spark the fire into life, serving the dual purpose of both heating and lighting the room. She grabbed her outdoor cloak and pulled it around her shoulders, and sat crossed-legged in front of the roaring blaze, rubbing her hands for extra warmth and attempted to focus her formidable brain of the events of the last half an hour.

Funnily enough, she did not question her decision to join Professor Snape at the side of the Black Lake. When she had seen him from her chamber window, it had felt somehow completely right to scamper through Hogwarts in her night clothes, barefooted, to join a man she knew so little about, but who had occupied so very many of her thoughts over the last few months.

She was also pretty sure that he had been expecting her. When she walked up silently behind him, he had spoken to her before she had identified herself, straight away asking her to explain herself for the classroom ... _incident_ that had occurred before she left school just before Christmas.

It had all been downhill from there. Almost as if she had swallowed Veritaserum, she was soon spilling her most embarrassing new and secret feelings about the dark professor directly to his face. Part of her had felt ridiculous, but the other, larger part, wanted him to hear what she was saying, wanted to see his response. When he had grabbed her arm to pull her into the forest to shelter from the worst of the rain, she had felt no fear, just excitement. She could no longer deny the small flame of want that had been burning for months now, when confronted with the dark, sneering reality of her unconventional desire.

Her mother, Jean Granger, had always said that her exceptional, unusual daughter would never be satisfied by someone _nice_. She had joked with Hermione and her father on many occasions that it would be a brave man who married such a headstrong, demanding, outspoken and intelligent girl, and that she had no doubt Hermione's future lay with an extraordinary man; be he wizard or muggle.

Well, Severus Snape was certainly the complete antithesis of _nice_. For a fleeting moment she wondered what her mother would think of him.

She had given up her relationship with Ron, because as much as she loved him, it was only as a friend. Long term, his laid-back ways, inability to be serious and general lack of ambition would have irritated her beyond belief if he was her boyfriend or husband. She wanted Ron in her life, he was so very dear to her, and she was even sufficiently attracted to him to have the occasional snog, but it wouldn't have been fair to either of them to string out a relationship that wasn't going to go anywhere, both of them deserved to find a more suitable attachment.

She had felt more lust towards Viktor Krum during their brief, whatever it was, the year of the Tri-Wizard tournament. Nothing had occurred whilst he was staying at Hogwarts with his Dumstrang contingent beyond a couple of brief kisses, but when she had visited him that summer, staying at the home of his aunt and uncle, they'd had more privacy, and some more intense snogging and groping had taken place. At nearly fifteen she had found this quite exciting, but due to her age and the distance between them nothing had progressed further and they had remained in only occasional owl contact since then, although they had passed a pleasant hour together at Bill and Fleur's wedding, just before Hermione, Ron and Harry had been forced on the run by the fall of the Ministry that very night.

Hermione had no need or desperation to find a boyfriend. Like everything in her life, she approached the idea of relationships in a highly logical manner, so whilst not knowing exactly what qualities her future partner would have, she had no doubt that suitable candidates would present themselves along her life path. She had a philosophical attitude towards physical contact, in that she could quite happily live without it, that she had been able to maintain until being hit squarely in the gut by her sudden intense sexual attraction to Severus Snape – an attraction she had suspected for a while, but had confirmed by her body's reaction to him that evening.

He was clearly a complicated man, suffering emotionally, which she guessed could be attributed to the dangerous role he played in the war, and all the other little pieces of his personal life that were wrapped up inside his participation. Hermione had never been one to shy away from a difficult challenge however, her innate compassion for others was imbued in everything she did, and she felt very sure that involving herself emotionally with her former professor would certainly not be all hearts and flowers.

In fact she suspected it would be quite the opposite. He was, after all, still the man who had belittled her in class for years, relentlessly bullied her friends for his own twisted reasons, and who created fear or loathing whenever he showed his face. Added to the fact he had voluntarily joined Voldemort's death eaters, however long ago that was, was skilled in the Dark Arts and had committed heinous crimes of which she could only imagine, it should have been a huge red light and muggle klaxon horn of warning to keep her distance and stay well away from the dark wizard.

It seemed that everyone in the entire wizarding world felt the same way about the former Headmaster Snape. Why should she be any different? Why should she make life difficult for herself?

She thought for a long while.

Because, she concluded, life was a challenge. As Dumbledore had once said, _It will soon be time to choose between what is right, and what is easy_. Getting closer to the notoriously misanthropic and private Snape would not be easy. But if everyone in the wizarding world despised him, and kept their distance, would that not make him the loneliest man alive? How was that fair for a wizard who had given all he had and more to defeat the Dark and protect as many as he could?

She stood up from her cross-legged position on the hearth rug and stretched out her cramped legs by walking over to the chamber door and locking it. She turned back towards the fireplace and scooped up a handful of Floo powder from the pot attached to the mantel with iron hooks. She threw the powder into the flames and stepped in, speaking her destination clearly. It was time to do what was right.

\- xxx –

She tumbled through the Floo connection and stepped out of the fireplace in to a living room that was much damper and cooler than the one she had just left. The high windows at the tops of the walls told her that she was in the dungeons, and the glare she received from the black-haired wizard currently sitting on the sofa, his wand aimed at his left arm slicing cuts through the dark mark on his left arm, told her she was in the right place.

He looked up at her with an expression that was part shame, part horror and part anger.

He held his wand steady but desisted in making any more cuts, and followed her eyes as she watched him spill his own blood to the floor, his wretched self-harming exposed unwillingly before her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Hermione steeled herself and walked slowly over towards him.

"No more," she said softly, gently plucking his wand from his fingers and laying it on the sofa beside him. "No more of this."

His left arm was underside-up, showing his dark mark scored with ugly open slices. She placed her hand underneath, allowing his blood to drip on to her fingers and showing him by her unflinching acceptance that she did not care.

She took her wand from the waistband of her flannel pyjama trousers and aimed a light healing spell at the deepest of the cuts, which began to seal instantly, the blood flow drying up and turning to a raised sliver of a pale scar as she moved her wand up and down the incision. She repeated the process for each of the cuts he had made to his arm. He remained resolutely silent, watching her intently, his head slightly bowed with his lank, still-damp hair falling into his eyes.

Once each cut had been sealed, she sent a _Tergeo_ to clean the blood from the floor, and conjured a soft, damp cloth to gently cleanse the blood from the healed cuts and the surrounding skin, finally cleaning her own hands afterwards. She vanished the crimson-stained cloth, and set the same drying spell and warming charms over the Professor as she had done for herself in her chambers.

She knelt before him on the rug in front of the sofa, as he had not changed his position, and took his cold hands between her small, warm ones. He did not pull away. His eyes downcast, she looked upon his angular face, prematurely lined around his eyes and mouth, his aquiline features dominated by his hooked, overlarge nose and his thick, black eyebrows. No, he was not a handsome wizard, but he was arresting, striking, and utterly unforgettable.

His hands and forearms were littered with scars, not least the ones she had just healed with her vinewood wand. There were nicks and scratches which were so common after mishaps in the Potions lab, there were large scars which looked like gouge or stab marks. She knew that when he lifted his head she would be able to see the infamous scar to his neck left by Nagini's near-fatal attack, and resolved to do her very best not to stare or gape at it.

"Professor," she began. He did not meet her eyes and kept his head resolutely down.

"Professor Snape." She repeated, a little more forcefully, which made him look up, his endless black eyes meeting her soulful brown.

"Nobody should live like this, Sir." She told him softly, remaining respectful and returned to using his full title despite having already called him _Severus_ and having his tongue down her throat not so long ago.

"Whatever you may think, you do not deserve to live like this."

"I think you have a very unrealistic expectation about what I deserve, Miss Granger." He replied, shaking his head in regret.

"I agree that at the moment I can only presume. But would you allow me to find out? Would you allow me close to you? I do not wish to push, or pry, but when a person is reduced to cutting themselves to feel their life blood flow; they need help, whether or not they are able to ask for it."

He looked at her sadly, but with confusion, as if she was growing a second head.

"You are a very unusual witch, Granger. You are also most wise way beyond your years. However I must draw your attention to our ... activities ... beside the lake tonight and must point out that being close to me is not the safest place for you to be."

She sighed and released his hands, and pushed herself from her knees to a standing position.

"You should feel no guilt or remorse for what happened between us earlier. I am an adult, Sir, I will be twenty in a few months, and I am no longer a student under your care. I have a full-time job at the Ministry, a very grown-up deposit account at Gringotts, and although Molly Weasley does indeed still do my laundry, I believe that most of my teenage angst and immaturity was blown up with one of Voldmort's horcruxes that I helped to destroy."

He looked pained, and Hermione knew she had identified at least some of the cause of his current distress, although her slightly flippant mention of Voldemort may not have been the best choice of words. She tried to collect her thoughts into some kind of articulate and thoughtful order before continuing.

"I am offering you support, because I think you need it. Yes, I do find myself attracted to you, but if that kind of relationship does not appeal to you, my offer of friendship is still there. Nobody should be alone, Sir. Not even you, before you argue."

She walked over towards the fireplace she had entered from and took a handful of Floo powder from his Hogwarts-issued pot at the mantel.

"I am here until tomorrow afternoon if you would like to see me. After that you know where I live and where I work. I do not make this offer lightly. If you need someone, I am here and I am loyal. I promise you that."

"Gryffindor." He accused, with a slight twist to the corner of his mouth.

"And proud." She smiled, throwing the powder and stepping into the now green flames before spinning back to her guest room.

The Floo spat her back out onto the scarlet rug, back where she started, and she gave herself a little shake. Out of all the things she had expected, to find the strong, notoriously-powerful wizard Severus Snape self-harming was not one of them. Mental health care was not a strong point of the wizarding world, it was one of the few areas where they were surpassed by muggles. Snape was evidently suffering from some kind of post traumatic stress disorder, and to be suffering it entirely alone would do his recovery no good at all.

She hoped that he would think on her words and accept her offered hand of support, but knew he was not a man to be pushed or cajoled. Everything would have to come from him.

She turned her wand on the fire to reduce it to a slow burn to keep the room warm; then padded across to the large four-posted bed, made up with many soft feather pillows, crisp white sheets and an insanely fluffy scarlet quilt. She slipped in between them; feeling dwarfed by the size, and snuggled down to sleep, hoping her mind would not be turning too long about how delicious their earlier kiss had felt, right down to her gut.

\- xxx -

Severus watched the fire glow green as Miss Granger was swallowed up by the flames and flooed to her chamber. He turned his arm over, the one she had healed, inspecting her wandwork. She had done a good job, but not _too_ good; as the dark mark now had several pink scars running through it, disfiguring the design. Good. If he covered it in scars it might disappear completely. He wondered if she had not healed the scars to perfection deliberately. He would not put it past her formidable mind to have done so.

He sat back on the hardened grey cushions of the sofa. She really was a remarkable witch. Everything that came out of her mouth was backed up by logic that he could not possibly argue with. The insufferable know-it-all he remembered (and he'd only called her that because she was always bloody right) had turned into a whip-sharp young woman. He was completely attracted to her, to her logical mind, her caring nature and yes, to her delicious body. If only he could find some way to be with her without feeling like a lecherous old pervert. Maybe find a witch just like her but twenty years older.

He was over-thinking things, he knew. The hypnotising draw of his blood-letting self-harm was now passing, and a sense of reality was setting in. Why the hell should he _not_ take what was being offered? Who gave a damn what he did, anyway?

He stood up and stalked over to the fireplace, barefoot and clad in his trousers and shirt-sleeves. He snatched up a handful of Floo powder and tossed it into the flames before he could talk himself out of it.

He took a deep breath and stepped into the fire as it glowed green.

\- xxx –

Hermione was snuggled in bed, not asleep but was turned to face the wall when she heard the Floo activate. Her eyes opened and her mouth crooked up in a small smile - he had come. He had heard her. She turned over in bed to face the fireplace; Snape was standing barefoot on the hearthrug, looking incongruous and slightly awkward with shoulders tensed, hands in the pockets of his black trousers, staring at her with those intense, obsidian eyes.

She purposely didn't say anything, just tucked her arm under her head on the pillow, and looked at him. He needed to speak first.

"I need to ..." he began, his voice slow and deep, "I need ... Can I ... Can I hold you?"

She gave him a small smile, and pulled back the covers in invitation to join her. He looked surprised, but not unpleasantly so, and after only a short pause in which she presumed he was having a little tussle with the conflicting thoughts inside his head, he walked slowly and deliberately across the dark room, lit only by the fire, and sat on the edge of the bed where she had opened the covers, his feet still touching the floor.

"And the rest." She whispered.

"Granger, this is highly irregular ..."

"Ssh. Not the time. Come and hold me. Please?"

He swung his long legs into the bed, laying his head on the pillow and twisted around to face her. She pulled the covers over him and he was struck with a strong reminder of his fox patronus tucking its tail around the visiting otter to bid it to sleep.

"Granger," he began.

"Yes, Sir?"

"What form does your patronus take?"

She smiled at him.

"It's an otter, Professor, rather perky and irritating, a little like its owner. Perhaps you may have seen it?" Her eyes glittered with amusement in the soft glow of the firelight from across the room.

"Perhaps I have." One corner of his mouth curled up high in a genuine, lop-sided smile that for Snape, resonated with warmth.

She took his hand, and pulled it around her waist as she spun in the bed; facing away from him, leaving them spooned together with his strong arm pulling her close into his chest. With an audibly deep breath he resigned himself to their position, and slid his other arm carefully beneath her hair and under her neck so she was resting on his bicep. He buried his face in her curtain of wild hair, inhaling the smell of her floral shampoo and the fresh rain that had fallen upon her.

"Thank you for sending it," he growled, low and resonant into her ear.

"It was my pleasure. Just a little annoying festive cheer," she grinned, closing her eyes.

He pulled himself tightly in behind her, unable to believe what his arms were full of. A bundle of young witch; soft, warm; and making no demands on him at all. His eyelids began to feel heavy as if the very scent of her hair contained a soporific.

"Granger?" he growled, before sleep took him completely.

"Mmm, yes?" she replied, clearly already halfway to dreamland.

"Of course _that kind_ of relationship fucking appeals to me. Stupid girl."

She murmured something unintelligible in response, and snuggled herself deeper into his arms. No further words were spoken, and very soon their breathing had evened out indicating their descent into a peaceful sleep as Severus Snape relaxed into the arms of the first woman he had ever slept alongside in his entire life.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Hermione awoke the following morning to the bright light of mid-morning shining through the windows of her Hogwarts guest chamber, and the smell of musky potions ingredients gently touching her olfactory nerves. She opened her eyes slowly, trying to ascertain the respective positions of herself and her unexpected visitor.

Her cheek was pressed against the white cloth of Snape's shirt, beneath which she could feel the warm, steady beat of his heart through his chest which she was recumbent upon. Her arm was slung across him in a gesture of possessiveness, and her leg was doing much the same. In fact she was fairly wrapped around him like Devil's Snare.

Moving her head a little, she could see him still sleeping soundly on his back, emitting light snores from his large nose. One of his arms was pitched almost casually behind his head, and the other was around her, his hand resting on the small of her back, touching the bare skin where her vest top and pyjama bottoms didn't quite meet.

Well, this was slightly awkward. Rather nice, but still awkward all the same.

Should she wake him, or allow him to wake naturally? She wasn't sure of the time, but she was meeting Harry and Ron for breakfast in Neville's apprentice quarters, no doubt their stomachs would have them banging on her door as soon as they awoke. She was relieved to remember that she had locked her chamber door last night before flooing to Snape's quarters, and a locked door at Hogwarts could not be released with a simple _Alohomora_ by a hungry teenage boy. Thank goodness. She didn't think she was quite ready to be discovered in bed with her former Potions Master just yet.

"Your mind is entirely too busy for first thing on a Sunday morning." A deep drawl, deeper than she had ever heard from him, rumbled under her cheek. She supposed his voice must get even deeper in the mornings, newly awoken and rusty with sleep. It really was rather sexy, she thought, stifling a smirk.

"How did you know I was awake? I haven't moved." She continued to lay with her head on his chest, not wanting to break their embrace just yet.

"It appears you are a very loud thinker, Miss Granger."

She shifted position slightly, and her knee that was across the top of his legs came into contact with a rather large and impressive piece of morning wood. He coughed.

"I apologise. You may wish to release your hold on me somewhat."

"Apologising for what? I shared a tent with Harry and Ron for best part of a year while we were on the run. Early morning erections are not something I get squeamish about, Professor."

"Indeed. You are very blunt, Granger. I find that an admirable quality. Nonetheless, I feel I should remove myself from your chamber before I outstay my welcome." He brought his hand down from behind his head, moving her knee gently from him, and turned a little onto his side, tumbling her off his chest.

She lay facing him, head now resting on one of the soft, dense pillows. He propped his head up on his hand and looked down at her.

"Do you want to go?" she asked him, her voice small but assured.

"What a question. I am not sure I should have been here in the first place. It was ..."

"But you _are_ here." She cut him off mid-sentence before he could start castigating himself. "And you slept well, did you not?"

"Better than I can ever remember sleeping." He admitted, exhaling hard and reaching out a tentative hand to take hers, locking his black eyes to hers.

Hermione felt that pang of _want_ deep in her gut again. She snaked a hand up his arm and behind his head, threading her fingers into the long strands at the back of his neck and using them to press his face nearer to hers. She caught a quick flash of the disbelief in his eyes before he touched his lips to her mouth.

"Oh, Hermione," he breathed against her lips. "How can I allow this?"

In response she littered feather-light kisses against his mouth, small pecks that did not overwhelm, but invited. " _Please_ ," she whispered, " _please_ kiss me."

He let loose with a guttural moan and crashed his mouth to hers, in a gesture of resignation that was so similar to the previous evening in the forest. Her head spun as he flickered his sharp tongue along the seam of her lips, opening up her mouth for his pleasure, and thrusting into her mouth with barely concealed desire.

She slid her other arm around his neck, and rolled on to her back, pulling his malleable body to lie across her. He let out a cry of alarm in her mouth as he realised he was on top of her, but did not halt his dizzying exploration of her mouth. His deepening kiss was inflaming her lust, and she wanted to feel him, hard, heavy and vital on top of her.

His erection was pressed to her hot core as she spread her legs to wrap them around him, inciting him to grind against her most private place, where his hardness could rub deliciously against her damp arousal. She was grateful for the covering of his trousers and her pyjamas between them, but couldn't deny the exploding feeling that was building higher and higher inside her. This wizard! This _man_ who was making her feel a thousand times sexier and more desirable than any _boy_ ever had.

Severus availed himself of her warm, wet mouth and thrust his tongue repeatedly inside to massage and conjoin with hers. He wasn't sure he had ever had such an all-consuming kiss before. He had panicked somewhat, mostly from guilt, when she had urged him on top of her, but the sheer pleasure of frotting his clothed morning wood against her burning hot pussy was a heady delight that overtook all rational thought. He clenched his buttocks as he rotated his slim hips against her, her warm softness providing the perfect amount of pressure and resistance. _Sweet Nimue_ if a spot of frottage felt like heaven, what would it be like to actually sink his cock inside her?

He was interrupted in his erotic reverie by a loud cacophony of knocking upon the door.

"Hermione!" he heard Weasley's voice shout. "Are you awake? We've overslept, come on, breakfast at Neville's started five minutes ago!"

"Hermione, I can't open the door, did you lock it? Come on Hermione, my head aches and I need coffee," came Potter's plaintive whine.

She released herself from his kiss, reluctantly it seemed, and began to sit up in bed, gently dislodging him from his delicious position between her thighs.

"Yes I'm awake!" she called. "And yes of course it's locked, I didn't fancy any unwelcome visitors last night!" She looked him directly in the eye, and _winked_ at him. Sassy little chit. This small gesture went straight to his cock. There was no doubt he fancied this witch. Quite a lot, actually.

"Are you coming though? Seriously Hermione, Hogwarts breakfast, I'm not missing it just because you can't get out of bed." Weasley again. Severus rolled his eyes.

"I _am_ out of bed, Ronald," she lied, "and I am just getting dressed, hence why I am not opening the door. Go to Neville's quarters and I'll be with you in ten minutes. Pour me some coffee and _don't_ eat all the bacon before I get there." She ordered, and Severus was amused to hear the young men brook no argument with her, instead he heard their large footsteps clattering away down the corridor. Clearly she still wore the trousers in their little trio, nothing much had changed from their years as his students.

She turned to him and grinned.

"I do have to go."

She looked at the resigned disappointment in his face.

"I told you last night I am a loyal friend. I don't let people down. We had an arrangement with Neville and I am not going to break it. Plus, I'm rather hungry, actually."

"I shall go". He rolled away from her, swinging his long legs over the edge of the bed and setting his feet on the bedroom floor before standing up, straightening his trousers and tucking his shirt in before starting to walk across the room to the fireplace.

She quickly scampered out of bed and over to him, meeting on the thick scarlet rug in the centre of the room.

"Not so fast." She touched his arm and pulled him around to face her. "Shall we make an arrangement to meet again?"

He looked at her, surprise clearly showing on his austere face.

"You didn't think I would invite you to my bed and not see you again, I hope?" she smiled.

"At present I am not entirely sure what to think about anything." He admitted. "I am a solitary man, unaccustomed to interactions such those we have shared over the last ten hours or so, and I intend to think deeply about what has occurred between us."

"Well, Sir, while you are thinking deeply, would you be amenable to booking me into your busy diary?"

He raised his eyebrow at her, quizzical but unbearably sexy.

"My diary is always empty," he replied, stiffly, "for _you_ , Granger."

She rewarded his words by closing the distance between them and embracing him, putting her arms around his neck and pulling him against her. Merlin knows he was not the kind of man who would spout pithy epithets, and his affectionate reply meant the world, and she wanted him to know how much it had meant to her. He initially stiffened, but then snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her towards him and resting his chin on the top of her curly head.

"When do you want me?" she asked the centre of his chest.

He pulled back and held her by the tops of her arms, looking her in the eyes.

"I think _all the time_ should suffice." He gave her that warm, lop-sided smile that made her stomach turn over with pleasure.

"Sadly I have a job to go to, as do you. But I am completely free next weekend. What say you to spending the weekend together? I could meet you in Hogsmeade after work on Friday?"

He looked utterly nonplussed and bereft of words.

"Let me help you out, Sir. I understand that things are very difficult for you at the moment. I know you are tired; and that you need change but are afraid to make it. Last night I agreed to stand with you while you attempt to sort your life out. I understand that we cannot yet be seen on a dinner date in Hogsmeade, or on a jolly shopping trip down Diagon Alley. Just for the time being, I offer you this. I will come and just be with you, in quiet, in hiding, in secret. We could cocoon ourselves in your chambers, away from the world that does not understand or respect you. You can talk, talk to me about everything in your life that has led you to where you are now. And I will listen."

"I am unskilled with verbal recollection of my own life. I am not sure I will be able to impart anything of use to either of us," he replied, in a husky voice.

She thought for a moment.

"How about using a pensieve? Do you have one?"

He nodded in the affirmative.

"You can choose the memories you would like to share with me, and we can enter them together. You can explain and advise, or not, as you wish, as we go along. What say you?"

He looked down his long nose at her, running his hands up her bare arms and tangling them in her hair, planting the sweetest kiss upon her forehead.

"Meet me at the gates of Hogwarts on Friday night. Seven o'clock. I will meet you there and bring you through the wards into the castle. If it looks like we will run into anyone on the walk from the gates to my chambers, I will disillusion you temporarily. Is this agreeable?"

She nodded into his hands. "I would like that, Professor. I would like to spend more time with you."

He looked at her with a mixture of admiration and regret, sensuously massaging the nape of her neck under her long curls.

"Such an exceptional witch you are, Hermione Granger. A witch of your calibre should not be hidden away like a dirty secret. Already I ask too much of you."

"You have asked nothing that I have not offered. We need to work on your self-esteem, Severus." Her chestnut eyes twinkled at him, daring him to pick up on the use of his given name.

"Severus, then, is it?" his black eyes glittered dangerously back at her.

"If that is acceptable?"

"More than acceptable, possibly even required. I am not sure how appropriate it would be for you to be calling me _Professor_ with my head between your legs." He chuckled darkly at her sudden gasp and the deep blush staining her cheeks and décolleté.

"Well well, Hermione," he teased, moving his lips close to her ear, "it seems there is still _something_ I can teach you, in return for the mental health therapy you have taken it upon yourself to provide me with. Would you allow me teach you, little witch, teach you as you will teach me?"

She reached up between his arms and took hold of the two points of his shirt collar, pulling his lips towards hers in order to answer his question in the most effective way.

"Oh yes, Sir," she murmured between kisses, "yes please, Severus."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Hermione dressed for work with care in her neat room at The Burrow. It was the start of a big week in the department, her section had been tasked with reviewing the current arrangements for werewolf registration and control, and she planned to find out all she could about the current arrangements in order bring about changes in legislation.

When she had accepted the post in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, it was with the intention of making a difference in the world for the likes of werewolves and house-elves. The werewolf Remus Lupin had been killed in the battle of Hogwarts alongside his wife, her good friend Tonks, but Hermione had never forgotten how the man lived – unable to keep a steady job due to his lycanthropic status, constantly without enough money to live on comfortably, effectively a pariah within society due to ignorance and fear.

It was a disgrace that good, hard-working wizards like Remus, whose lycanthropy was well-controlled with the regular admission of the Wolfsbane potion, lived a pauper's life because of the restrictions that were placed on a werewolf's ability to seek employment. She owed it to the Lupins' memory to fight for changes in the law so that others may not suffer the same difficulties and prejudice.

It was slightly distracting that part of her mind was still firmly at Hogwarts with a certain dark wizard who had kissed her senseless with an intensity and tenderness that belied his notoriously bad tempered and indifferent demeanour.

The previous morning they had kissed goodbye in front of the fireplace in her guest room, before she chivvied him into the Floo, performed a quick cleansing spell instead of her usual thorough morning ablutions, before hot-footing it down the corridors and up several flights of stairs to Neville's apprentice quarters near entrance to the greenhouses. Quite as expected, Ron had indeed eaten all the bacon, but there was still a good-sized plate of eggs and toast saved for her by Neville, away from the threat of voracious Weasley consumption.

They had all been far too involved in the delights of the much-missed Hogwarts Sunday breakfast to pay much attention to Hermione's slightly dishevelled state and her lips plumped up by recent kisses. It was always a bonus having boys as friends, their observation skills are zero, she had thought wryly to herself, eyeing the three young men over the top of her cup of fresh coffee.

It wasn't until they had returned to The Burrow later that day, and Harry had returned to his rooms at the Wimborne Wasps training ground, that Hermione had laid on her small bed and allowed herself to think upon the events of the weekend. She could hear Ron clattering around in his attic room above her, he had an interview the following morning for another Quidditch team, and Molly had insisted he get everything ready the night before. There was much stamping and cursing, opening and closing of cupboard doors and dropped items before she heard the loud creak that indicated he had climbed into bed.

Professor Snape - Severus, had revealed a side of himself to her this weekend that she never knew existed, much less would have expected him to show her. She had seen how emotionally vulnerable he was, his lack of confidence and the innate self-loathing that appeared to permeate every aspect of his life and being. She'd felt desperately sorry for him, but her pity wouldn't help him – action would.

It was true that he presented a nasty, impatient, uncompromising exterior, and Hermione was certain that he did not allow people close to him for any reason. But the ease in which he had exposed his softer side to her suggested that he was so desperate for change that the need was dripping from him in an uncontrolled manner.

She wondered briefly if she had just been in the right place at the right time, and that any physical attention he had shown her was getting confused with his need for emotional support. She hoped not, but soothed her concern by telling herself that if she was going to be spending more time with the dark wizard, she would soon gauge what his true feelings were.

But Merlin, the way he had made her feel. She had fallen asleep with him spooned around her, and woken up curled around him. He had not pushed anything sexually, in fact she had been the one to roll him on top of her. She groaned inwardly at the memory of him grinding his hips against her, a look of sheer pleasure in his endless eyes. It had felt amazing and she had been so turned on by him.

She stifled a giggle that it had been her former severe Potions master that had been frotting against her in a Hogwarts bedroom, if she was honest; she found the whole idea quite erotic. She went to sleep with some wickedly dirty dreams involving his signature billowing black teaching robes, his dungeon classroom and a work bench set at the perfect height.

She clattered down the higgledy-piggledy stairs in the Burrow, greeting Molly, Arthur and Ron at the breakfast table. She was surprised to see George there too; apparently he had stayed there the night before after getting rather drunk in an Ottery-St-Catchpole pub and being unable to apparate himself back to his flat above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley.

She helped herself to a small pile of fresh pancakes, covering them with yoghurt and blueberries, and Molly passed her a cup of coffee.

"You spoil me, Molly," she smiled warmly at the red-haired witch who was like a mother to her. "I'm not going to be able to replicate this standard at Grimmauld Place, that's for sure."

"You eat up, dear," Mrs Weasley told her, indulgently. "The Burrow always feels the most like home when there are hungry mouths around this table for me to feed."

Ron and George both their mother a thumbs-up as they shovelled huge forkfuls of pancakes, smothered with cream, syrup and bacon into their mouths. How they weren't both the size of a house, Hermione had no idea.

After they had eaten, Arthur Weasley got to his feet. "Ready, Hermione?" he said to her, gesturing towards the fireplace. She nodded, downed the last dregs of her coffee and joined him at the Floo, ready to travel to one of the commuting fireplaces in the Ministry atrium.

They bid each other a good day in the atrium as they had done every morning since Hermione had lived at the Burrow and begun working at the Ministry. She felt it was like being walked to work by your father each morning and she found Arthur's gentle, paternal care and support comforting, and a welcome substitute for own her dearest Dad, whom she missed keenly.

Hermione took the lift to her floor, lilac memo envelopes skittering around the ceiling of the elevator car even this early in the morning. She settled down at her desk and waited for her colleagues in her section to arrive. She was eager to begin work on the werewolf legislation review and had a folder full of research ready to submit to the team already.

Her colleague, Esther, who sat in the next desk to her, arrived for the day laden down with a satchel of paperwork, a large overnight bag, and a paper carrier that smelled of goodies from the muggle bakery in the next street to the Ministry entrance.

"Good morning! Esther, are you absolutely sure you don't want me to teach you the undetectable extension charm that I have on my bag?" she grinned at the blonde witch, ten years older than her but intelligent, approachable, and fun.

"And avoid all this?" Esther smiled back. "This overnight bag is my outward sign of a wonderful weekend, a weekend that didn't finish until this morning, if you get my drift."

Hermione rolled her eyes, not unkindly. She _always_ got Esther's drift. The witch was insatiable; and never short of partners for a night, a weekend or a year. Esther professed she did not want to settle down, wanted to live alone and have all relationships on her own terms. Hermione had to admire her tenacity.

"Sounds fun." She smirked at her colleague.

"You had sex!" the uncouth bint shrieked loudly, pointing her finger indiscreetly at Hermione.

"What?"

"I talked about sex and you didn't blush. That's a first! You must have finally got a wizard in your knickers this weekend – well come on, spill the gory details."

Hermione momentarily let her mouth flop open like a fish before gathering her wits.

"I most certainly did _not_."

"Liar."

"Ok, ok. I did kiss someone this weekend. But I resolutely did not have sex, and if even I had done, it would be not one bit your business anyway, Esther."

"Would I be right in guessing you are not going to tell me the name of the lucky boy?"

"I will be telling you the sum total of nothing. Now come on, meeting room, the others are here now. Bring your paperwork, this werewolf bill of rights is long-due for reform."

"Ever diligent, Hermione," Esther mocked, before grabbing her bag and following her young, enthusiastic co-worker into the department's meeting room.

\- xxx –

"Ten points from Hufflepuff, Miss Drewery, for being out of your common room after curfew," Severus snarled, "and fifteen points from Slytherin, Mr Saunders, for your poor judgement in being caught _in flagrante delicto_ with a Hufflepuff. Get to bed, both of you."

The two students, faces burning red from having their heated snogging session behind a tapestry on the fourth floor interrupted by Professor Snape, legged it in different directions back to their respective common rooms. Severus angrily jerked the heavy tapestry, depicting a long-forgotten goblin battle, back across the alcove and stalked further down the corridor, his keen ears and eyes searching out further miscreants and horny teenagers. Randy little shits. If _he_ wasn't getting any, neither was anyone else in this castle.

Severus had not been the recipient of any sexual attention whilst a student himself at Hogwarts, and if it hadn't been for Lily Evans taking pity on him and relieving him of his virginity the summer before their seventh year, he'd probably have graduated with the bluest balls ever known. Nowadays all the spotty, teenage bastards seemed to be at it, even the ugly ones, in every nook and cranny of the castle they could find to conceal themselves, not always very successfully.

It did not help, at all, that his usually tightly-controlled mind was being assaulted by thoughts, memories and fantasies starring the outstanding Miss Granger. _Control your emotions?_ His unimpeachable motto was currently laughable as he struggled to wrest control of his libido. His morning wank in the shower had now become part of his night-time routine too, as he lay on his four-poster in the bedchamber of his dungeon professorial quarters, visions of Hermione's soft lips gently coaxing him to _please kiss her_ dancing behind his closed eyelids.

The girl had been pressing on his mind since he stepped out of the Floo in his living room after leaving her on Sunday morning. He had, as he promised, thought deeply about their encounter and found himself no more illuminated as to the _Why_ , but no less interested in getting her back inside his arms for his confusion. He still could not fathom why a young, beautiful, intelligent, popular witch could have any interest in him – a sullen, evil deviant with the stains of murder, rape and torture on his soul.

She wanted to know everything about him, and curiously, he wanted to tell her. He had no doubt that she would run for her life once she knew the full truth about the depravity of Severus Snape, but at least he could have her for just a short time, to have someone care for him before his complete history was laid out for her judgement. There was no possible way she would keep what unexpected interest she had in him once she discovered the secrets of his past, but, a little voice that he kept trying to silence crept up once again at the back of his mind, _what if_? What if she knew _everything_ and still liked me?

"Impossible." He snapped aloud to himself, his caustic exclamation echoing off the stone walls of the dark corridor. What a ridiculous notion. If he had been seeking a relationship his best chance would be with an un-imprisoned female former death eater whose soul was just as black as his own. Then he remembered the likes of Alecto Carrow, Samantha Rosier and Gretchen Crabbe, women with whom he had been forced to publicly copulate, and fought the urge to retch – no, that was definitely not a plan. He would enjoy Miss Granger until she pushed him away in disgust; with a bit of luck he could prolong the inevitable to allow himself just a little pleasure before the bright witch left him forever.

He completed a few more rounds of the castle, running into Argus Filch more than once, and resisted the urge to kick Mrs Norris, that mangy cat always looked supercilious, as if she knew something you didn't. Severus privately thought it must be an animagus, surely the mog should have died years previously if it was a normal cat?

Finding no further students out of bed or signs of trouble, he opted to turn in for the night somewhat earlier than usual. Snape's patrols generally resulted in less havoc than the nights other teachers were on duty for rounds: it was a brave or stupid child who risked getting caught by Professor Snape, whose demeanour was fearsome and his detentions legendary – and not in a good way.

Severus entered his quarters and disrobed, hanging up his outer garments and banishing his shirt, shorts and socks to the laundry, where they would be cleaned, pressed and returned by the attending Hogwarts house-elves. He selected an overwashed long grey nightshirt from the tall chest of drawers and slipped it on over his naked body, enjoying the comfort of the bobbled cotton against his abraded skin.

The fire had been lit in his bedchamber, set to a low burn for minimal light and warmth. He sat down on the bed, ran a heavy paddle brush through his long hair to detangle it and set his ebony wand upon the bedside table. He lay back on top of the quilt, his pale legs stark against the dark green plush material. He slipped his right hand under his nightshirt and took himself in hand, not even trying to fight the urge, as he had done the previous evening, which had proved to avail and caused him to get to sleep even later than if he had not been internally debating whether it was disrespectful to Hermione to wank over thoughts of her.

He gripped his cock, moving in a firm motion up and down the shaft, finishing off with a twist of his wrist as he reached the sensitive mushroom head. Merlin, the chit had invaded his most personal time in the most frustrating of ways. He needed to see her, reassure himself this was not some kind of hallucination; that he actually _had_ spent the night with Hermione Granger, former student, who, despite all advice to the contrary, seemed to like him. He imagined it was her small hand wrapped around his cock as he brought himself to a quick completion, panting and sweating. He vanished the mess, slipped under the covers and lay back on the pillows, breathing deeply. He couldn't wait to see this little enigma again. And it was only fucking _Tuesday_.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

By Friday morning, the usually unflappable Hermione was in a most uncharacteristic state of flux, twice repacking her beaded bag that contained the undetectable extension charm, both times taking out the same items before repacking them, crossly. What on earth did one take to a weekend away when you would most likely not leave the same room, and where you might or might not be having sex for the first time? If she packed pyjamas, did that mean she would send a message that she did not want him to touch her, or would it be entirely presumptuous to assume she'd be sleeping naked? Nice lingerie or plain knickers? Not that she had any particularly alluring underwear, but a short trip to Diagon Alley in her lunch hour was not out of the question.

Rather than face any awkward questions or misguided concern, she had lead Mr and Mrs Weasley to believe that she was spending the weekend with an old family friend and travelling to Wales for a short break visiting a number of stately homes and landscaped gardens with an elderly muggle aunt. She would need a better and more long-term excuse if she were to see Severus on a regular basis, but the fictional Wales trip would do for now.

She had no idea how the weekend would progress so there was no need to make any more extensive plans at the moment. Of course, she was an adult and could see whomever she wished, but she was living on the Weasleys' hospitality at present, and she felt they would not be too pleased to hear she was spending nights in the dungeons at Hogwarts with her former professor. It would prompt questions that she was currently in no position to answer.

She heard Arthur Weasley's voice calling her up the many, mismatched flights of stairs in the Burrow, warning that they were about to be running rather late. Admitting defeat by the packing, she shoved all her possible choices into the beaded bag and headed downstairs, gratefully taking the packaged breakfast which Molly held out for her that smelt alluringly like a bacon sandwich. Following Arthur into the grey brick fireplace, she was still debating her choice of knickers as she span through the Floo connection to the Ministry atrium.

The morning was spent in the office with Esther, poring their way through the week's work they had done into current and proposed werewolf regulation legislation. The department head, Pridmore Ulbrecht, had assigned the two capable witches in its entirety after seeing the amount of private research both had put in prior to the first discussion meeting,

They were approaching the project not just as the review it was supposed to be, but as an opportunity to do some good for an oppressed species. The basis of their case was that werewolves were not inherently a magical creature, but human witches or wizards who had fallen prey to the bite of an attacking werewolf, many of them as defenceless children. They planned to campaign that as the werewolves were human first, and spent the majority of their lives in human form, their rights as full magical citizens of wizarding Britain should be restored, their employment restrictions lifted, and a medical programme put in place for the administration of wolfsbane to all afflicted.

To Hermione it all seemed rather logical, but she and Esther knew that convincing the wider wizarding world, with all their inherent prejudice and fear of werewolves, would not be an easy sell in the slightest. The witches knew that education was the best way to get their research across, to spread awareness that werewolves were not the menace of society that they were presumed to be, but much maligned humans who had suffered a dreadful tragedy in their lives, and were continually punished for it. It made her blood boil.

She remembered how angry she had been when Harry had told her of his final conversation with Remus Lupin before he resigned from Hogwarts in their third year, saying that parents would not want _someone like him_ teaching their children. She recalled him leaving as he had arrived, in his shabby robes, with a sad and accepting expression on his scarred face and clutching his battered suitcase – never enough money to live properly.

Her and Esther had been gifted an opportunity by Pridmore to change a terrible injustice and both were determined to take their chance with both hands. For all Esther's wild behaviour outside of Ministry walls, she was a staunch campaigner for issues she believed in, with a formidable mind who kept her work and private life strictly separate. Hermione wondered if her sexual voraciousness was partly a respite from the stresses and responsibility of her job. That would certainly make sense.

As the busy week drew to a close, Hermione could certainly understand the need to separate your dual existences. She had worked like a demon, giving up several evenings for private research, and with the complexity of the issues they had uncovered it seemed their werewolf project would be their sole focus for the foreseeable future and Ulbrecht had granted them an indefinite extension to explore the subject.

She sat in Florean Fortescue's with Esther, treating themselves to a sundae after work as a reward for their intensive labour that week. It was too cold and dark for Fortescue to put the tables and chairs outside so they were sat in a quiet corner of the cheery ice-cream parlour, nursing banana splits and sharing plans for the weekend.

More correctly, Esther was telling Hermione exactly what she was going to be up to that weekend, and Hermione was half-listening, nodding and smiling in the appropriate places but her mind was already freeing itself from the confines of their hard week and moving towards her own, unexpected plans for later that night, and hopefully for the following two days after that.

She was actually pleased she had been kept so busy that week as it had helped her stop counting the minutes until her return to Hogwarts. She wasn't entirely sure what was going to happen, she only knew that whatever it was, she wanted it. She had a horrible thought that he might have changed his mind, realised that he did not want to spend private time with a former student and regretted everything that had happened between them, but attempted to banish that worry by telling herself that if he'd had a change of heart he surely would have sent her an owl.

She would meet him at the place and time he had suggested, and go from there. She smirked to herself as she realised she was convincing no one, least of all herself, with that idea. Hermione Granger needed everything in meticulous order, prepared and ready for every eventuality, and the lack of a plan was most unsettling. She had to admit it; she was coasting on pure adrenaline that was churning from her gut in a simultaneously pleasant and unpleasant way.

" ... and Merlin knows, he's got enough of that!"

Too late, Hermione realised that Esther was still talking and she hadn't heard a word she'd said for goodness how long. Her blonde colleague eyed her with a cool gaze, that narrowed to a spark of comprehension and a wide smile spread across her beautiful face. Clearly Hermione's private smirk had not been as secret as she had hoped it was.

"Oh, Hermione," she grinned, "you are a thousand miles away, darling, aren't you?"

Hermione blushed, sheepishly.

"You have plans?" Esther enquired, giving her curly-haired younger friend a saucy wink.

"I do." Hermione answered, letting her shoulders fall; resigned to the fact she had been so easy to read.

"First time with a new wizard?" Esther was nothing if not blunt and to the point. Hermione decided it would do no harm to admit it; then if everything went wrong she'd have a sympathetic ear on Monday morning.

"First time, full stop," she admitted.

Esther let out a low whistle and leaned back in her chair.

"Oh darling. I promise you it is nothing to worry about. From that smirk on your face it seems you can't wait to get away from here and into your wizard's bed, which is a great start. It might sound trite, but just do what you feel comfortable with, whatever's working for you, and stop if anything gets uncomfortable or weird. Any wizard worth his wand will respect that."

"Thank you," Hermione said genuinely, not wanting to discuss Severus in any great detail with Esther.

"Tight-lipped as ever my little friend," Esther smiled. "and now I might be about to sound like your big sister, but are you protected?"

"I've been taking the muggle birth control pill for a few years now, it regulated my periods when I was having a difficult time with them during fourth year."

"Good, good, although long-term you may be better on the Potion; you know, magical beings are best off using magical remedies and all that jazz."

Hermione finished off the last scraping of her sundae and they walked to the counter to pay before heading out into Diagon Alley and towards the Leaky Cauldron where Esther was going to apparate home to spend three hours getting ready for her date, and Hermione was going to spend a painful hour passing time before seven o'clock chimed on the big grandfather clock in the main part of the old pub. She had no doubt that Severus Snape would be nothing but on-the-dot punctual and, she thought with private amusement, she did not want to start off their weekend with a loss of housepoints for tardiness.

\- xxx –

Minerva McGonagall noted instantly that her disagreeable Potions master was out-of-sorts as soon as he took his seat at the head table for breakfast. She watched him drink two cups of coffee in quick succession before pouring himself a third to sup at a more leisurely pace. He eschewed his normal cooked breakfast for a slice of toast spread thinly with pumpkin marmalade, and the Headmistress exchanged concerned glances with Madam Pomfrey as he bit delicately into it, dropping it unfinished to his plate before it was even half-eaten.

Severus could feel the two witches' eyes upon him and considered sending a muttered, wandless hex their way, before settling for just wishing they would piss off and let him continue his pretence of eating breakfast. For Merlin's sake he was at meals every day, consuming calories he did not want to satisfy his self-styled protectors; couldn't they allow him one off-morning? He motioned to Minerva that he had a hangover, she rolled her eyes and tut-tutted in disapproval, but at least she returned her beady eyes to her own plate.

The truth was; he couldn't have eaten anything if his life depended on it. He woke up with his body tied up in excited but apprehensive knots, too wound up even for his now ritual morning wank in the privacy of his shower. He could think of nothing else but the feeling of Hermione Granger's soft skin beneath his calloused fingers as he had held her bare arms; and the taste of her warm lips as he had kissed them with his own. He was alternating wildly between feeling like a selfish old pervert taking advantage of a young girl, and an excited teenage boy needing only a glimpse of a witch's nipple to shoot his load.

He had still not acclimatised himself to the acute _oddness_ of not only having planned to spend the weekend with a beautiful young witch, secreting her in his quarters, but the aforementioned witch being a former student who, little over two months ago, had been sitting at a work bench in his classroom listen to him lecture on Potions. He could not escape the guilt that he was doing something very, very wrong, a corruption that would damn his soul even further to hell that it already was. He, the vile death eater, did not deserve one whit of time with such a witch, let alone to enjoy the pleasures of her mind, lips and body.

Potions class that afternoon was a particular nightmare. He had the fifth-year Gryffindor Slytherin cohort, a trying group at the best of times, all rampaging hormones and insouciant attitudes. He was aware that the churning of his gut was causing him to react to the students in an even more unpleasant and acerbic manner than usual, the shitty little fuckers pushing his famously limited patience to breaking point.

As he stalked down between the workbenches, he intercepted a note being passed on a folded piece of parchment between two Gryffindor boys sat one behind the other; both sniggering in what they obviously thought was a discreet manner. Wrong.

"Well, well, well. Is my lesson not stimulating enough for the likes of your formidable brains that you feel the need to pass additional information to one another?" he sneered at the culprits, who were turning as scarlet as their Gryffindor ties.

He unfolded the parchment, reading the written conversation between the two boys crudely jotted and clearly having been passed between them.

 _What the fuck is wrong with Snape today?_

 _\- Dunno, worse mood than usual, if that's possible._

 _Needs a good hard shag I reckon. Release the tension._

 _\- LOL. Who'd fuck that greasy creep?! Not even Trelawney's that desperate._

He towered over the boys for an unbearably long time, fixing them both with his iciest black glare.

"Indeed." He sneered, at length.

"Your opinions are not only unwelcome, ill-mannered and impudent, but also, I must inform you, most incorrect." He told them, coolly, with ill-disguised threat in his deep voice.

He vanished the two cauldrons of strengthening solution that the boys had been working on and their eyes opened wide with fear.

"Collect your belongings. Consider yourselves excluded from the rest of this lesson for your inability to concentrate on the task before you and to mind your own business. Take this note," he conjured a parchment detailing instructions for its recipient, "to Mr Filch. Advise him that the manner of your detention is for him to decide. He will ... be more than pleased to oblige you." Severus imagined Filch's glee at being able to meter out a punishment of his own choosing, and had instructed him to detain the boys until well after supper had finished.

Severus did not go to the Great Hall for dinner that evening, instead he remained in his quarters, showering and carefully washing his hair, and ensuring that his chambers were neat and tidy. Emptying his pockets onto his dark mahogany desk in his living room, the only surface that was permitted to be strewn with notes, parchments, quills and books, he placed an order for a late supper from the kitchen via the Floo, before warding and blocking it securely. The last thing he needed was a concerned Floo call from Minerva or Poppy, or a drunk Filius begging for a Friday night game of wizard chess. The diminutive deputy headmaster generally imbibed of elf-made wine at the weekend, needing what seemed like only a small thimbleful to render his tiny body completely inebriated.

At ten to seven, he had walked down the long path from the castle to the boar-topped iron gates of Hogwarts, and was waiting, disillusioned lest any other teachers be leaving the castle for a night in Hogsmeade and see him loitering there, for the witch who had occupied almost his every waking thought since he had left her room last Sunday morning.

At five to seven, a _crack_ of apparition rent the air and Hermione appeared in front of the gates, looking around immediately, he hoped searching for him. He finite'd his disillusionment and materialised in front of her.

"You are early. I am impressed with your punctuality, Granger."

"You are early too, Sir."

He took a step towards her, lightly touching her hand.

"I thought we had agreed on _Severus_."

She clasped his hand, cold to the touch, in her own warm one, heated from the stuffy interior of the Leaky Cauldron.

"We had. So, _Granger_?"

"Hermione. My apologies. This is still all very ..." he struggled to find a suitable word.

She reached for his other hand.

"I know. It is very strange. But not at all unpleasant. Shall we go?"

He gave a slow dip of his head in agreement, and brandished his wand before the gates which creaked open at the recognition of his magical signature. He extended his hand to usher her through before him, and she stepped into the Hogwarts grounds she knew and loved so well. They followed the long path that led around to the main door, walking in a speedy fashion, not talking.

He was watchful and alert to the presence of anyone who may be observing them. He hated concealing this brilliant witch but he wanted no one asking questions that he was not willing to answer. Hermione Granger was his business and no one else's.

Before they reached the main door, he swept his robe around her shoulders with a billow, and ushered her towards a side door, halfway around the back of the castle, mostly hidden by rambling ivy. This was the door he had left ajar when he'd walked out of the castle to meet her, and he locked it firmly once they were through. A few steps further and they were about to enter the dungeon corridor when Severus heard the unmistakeable voice of Argus Filch talking to his ever-present feline companion.

He turned to Hermione.

"I apologise," he whispered, "I must disillusion you. Filch is on the prowl."

She nodded and he cast the spell over her, and she felt the cold rush of his magic travel down from the top of her head to the tips of her toes as she became invisible.

"Walk behind me, directly behind. I do not want him to inadvertently walk into you."

Hermione falling into step behind his voluminous black cloak, they entered the dungeon corridor, lit by flaming wall sconces, the floor a little damp as always.

"Evening, Professor Snape." The oily tones of Mr Filch soundly particularly unctuous tonight.

"Good evening, Mr Filch." He carried on walking, in no mood to engage the elderly caretaker in conversation. No doubt he would wish to regale Severus with the foul details of the detention he had rent on the two Gryffindor boys that had been sent to him for passing notes in Potions class. Severus found himself curiously uninterested in anything apart from the witch currently walking behind him.

As reached the door of his classroom he looked back down the corridor to see Filch's stooped retreating back, and a curious Mrs Norris looking directly at where the disillusioned Hermione would be. Fucking cat could see her, Severus was sure of it. He walked quickly into the Potions classroom, closing the door behind him and immediately removing the invisibility spell upon her.

"Come." He reached for her hand, pulling her past the work benches and towards the few steps at the back of the room that led up to his private quarters. His door opened for him and he waved her into his rooms, closing the door behind them before pointing his wand at the wooden frame.

Hermione walked into the sitting room that she had been in just once before, the night that she had found him scoring into his own flesh, and watched him set a security ward of such strength on the door that his powerful magical signature bounced off it and flared a little blue.

"Not wanting visitors, then?" she raised her eyebrow at him.

"I have all the visitors I need." He moved towards her, removing her travelling cloak from around her shoulders and sending it to the cloak stand along with his own. She took the beaded bag from across her chest and over her head, setting it on the small table, serviced with two wooden chairs.

"Undectable extension charm," she indicated the bag with a nod of her head.

"I assumed as much. May I show you around your cocoon, Madam?" he waved his hand vaguely towards the room. She nodded and smiled.

"This is the main living area, which I am aware you have seen before. We can eat here later, I have ordered supper from the kitchen; please advise me when you are hungry."

He held her shoulders loosely and walked her past the grey sofa and fireplace, towards the enormous bookcase at the back of the room, fronted by two leather wingback chairs, a small table between them with an oil lamp and a few tomes piled on top. Her eyes widened as she took in the wall of books, so many that she had not seen before, her fingers twitched and she could not help but reach out and touch, feeling the cracked bindings of oft-read spines, and smelling the intoxicating scent of musty old parchment.

She felt him come and stand directly behind her, his chest just touching her back. He smelt as familiar and as delicious as the old books. He held the tops of her arms and nuzzled his long nose into her hair, insinuating his lips directly next to her ear.

"Ah. I forgot what an avid reader you are. I fear that I may have lost your attention to my bookcase."

His warm breath tickled deliciously against her ear and the side of her neck. She turned around his arms, and wrapped her own around his waist. He looked surprised, as if he was not expecting that reaction, but slid his arms around her shoulders and pulled her in to him, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"Oh, Hermione. You lovely little witch," he spoke slowly and deeply into her hair, his lips brushing her forehead with every word. "You are finally here. I do so want to kiss you. I must ... kiss you. May I?"

"You do not need to ask," she replied, tipping her chin and looking up into his endless eyes which were already burning with that volcanic desire she had seen the previous weekend. "Please do ... please kiss me."

He lowered his head and dropped his needy mouth to her waiting lips.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

She tightened her arms around his slim waist as his lips touched hers; pulling him so close to her that he could not doubt his welcome. From his reluctance to allow himself to touch her, and the wretched self-harming she had inadvertently witnessed, it was clear to Hermione that Severus was suffering from a chronic lack of self-worth and she could only imagine how this must be affecting his ability to live life to its fullest, to its most joyous. The dour professor had nothing he seemed to take pleasure in, for as far back as she could remember.

She resolved that despite her lack of experience, she would do anything she could to reassure him that his attentions were wanted, that he pleased and excited her, and guessed that he would need a great deal of tenderness in order to soothe his tortured soul. She used her small hands to gently caress the curve of his back above the waistband of his trousers, over the top of his white shirt and he murmured against her lips, upon which he was placing soft, tentative kisses.

She allowed her tongue to flick out of her mouth and lick his lips, flickering across the seam until he opened his mouth and her tongue reached in to fetch his own, swirling together as he squeezed his arms around her shoulders, reaching one hand up to tangle his fingers in her hair, deliciously stroking her scalp.

"More," she mumbled into his mouth, causing him to begin to let go of his reticence, as he backed her against the bookcase, thrusting that rapier tongue into her mouth as if he were fucking her with it. She let loose with a cry of pleasure that was muffled by his plundering mouth which only served to ignite him further, and he rolled his hips eagerly against her, his arousal already making itself known.

Severus felt his head spin as he pushed the tempting little witch up against his beloved wall of books. His favourite smell of old parchment and libraries mixed with the intoxicating floral scent of her abundant curls was driving his highly-keen sense of smell into a state approaching bliss. He felt a pang of wretched guilt as he ground his rapidly-swelling erection against her, but he could no more hold back than as if he was under an _Imperio_ ; she was _that_ desirable and he wondered if she knew she held every card in the pack in her small hand at the current moment. One word from her, and he would be lost, he knew it.

He kissed her with an enthusiasm he had not felt for many years, alternating between deep, heady snogging, and light nibbles of her pillowed, soft lips. He had both hands around her head, keeping it in the right place for his attentions as he continued to kiss her, no reason or will to stop. Severus had never had much time or care for kissing, and this prolonged session was blowing his mind with its intensity. He would never have thought he could achieve such a level of arousal from the mere touching of lips.

She surprised him when she slid her arms around from their position around his waist to place her hands on his chest, breaking the kiss but keeping her lips millimetres from his own. She gently pushed against him and he allowed it, she was walking him slowly backwards towards one of the wingback chairs which was sideways behind him, and pressed him down to sit on one of the firm leather arms. He perched upon it, his head now slightly lower than hers, and it became clear to him that she had been trying to make up for the height difference between them, he was a good eight or so inches taller, as she moved her hands up from his chest to cup his face between them.

Standing between his legs, slightly splayed to balance himself, she pressed her hips against him, regaining contact with his erection, much to his delight. She ran her hands up his cheeks and behind his ears, rubbing sensuous little circles with her fingertips when she reached into his hair and raked his scalp. He closed his eyes in pleasure and was assaulted by the memory of the first time she had touched him, just like this, in his Potions classroom before Christmas.

Her warm hands travelled down the back of his neck and around to his face again, and she held his head, stroking her thumbs along his cheeks.

"You are exquisite, Severus. Arresting. Powerful. Sensitive. Sexy. How could I have known you for so long and yet never seen the real wizard behind the scowl?"

His eyes flew open at her words. _What?_ He simply stared at her. No one, ever in his whole life, not even his mother, had ever held his unattractive face between their hands and looked at it in such approval as this tiny witch was doing now.

"I presume from that look that you do not believe me. I had expected that." She left one hand on his cheek, and the other returned to the back of his neck, deliciously twisting small strands of his hair around her fingers, slowly teasing pleasure from him.

Punctuating her words with pecking kisses to his swollen mouth, she explained.

"Whilst in our cocoon here, I intend to do my best to heal you. No, no do not protest. I know you have a great deal that you feel guilty about, and I give you my solemn promise that I will listen to and understand everything you tell me. But I'm not going anywhere, at least not yet, anyway. I am going to stay here and bring you to life – if you will allow it? If you'll have me?"

He actually _growled_. Wench.

"Oh, I will have you. Make no mistake about that."

He pushed himself up from the arm of the chair, surprising her with his unexpected movement, and lifting her with ease, one strong arm around her back and the other in the crook of her knees. He squired her through the doorway that led to his bedchamber, before dumping her unceremoniously in the centre of his darkwood four poster with its sumptuous forest green quilt. She squeaked in surprise as she landed.

He stood by the side of the bed, looming over her in all his dark glory.

"As you will find out, I am not a nice man, Hermione. I can only presume you are under a Confundus charm that requires you to be attracted to me. However, not being a nice man, my Slytherin nature insists that I not pass up such a delicious chance as this."

He stood with his hand in the pockets of his black trousers, white shirt open at the neck and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. There was no sign of the scarring to his neck, he must be wearing a glamour and she supposed she could not blame him for that. His sinewy forearms, littered with smaller scars and of course the dark mark that he had attempted to ruin the other night, were stark white against the jet black of his trousers. She wondered if he realised just how inherently sexual he was, just standing there with his endless black eyes hungry with unspoken desire.

She scrambled from the position where he had thrown her, moving up the bed a little to lean against a pile of pillows. She fixed her eyes on his; he was breathing deeply with his large nostrils flaring, like a racehorse eager to leave the starting gate, all pent-up anticipation and readiness, waiting for the starting pistol. She supposed that was down to her.

"Teach me, please ... _Sir_." She pulled the trigger.

"Fucking teasing little witch." He let loose with a loud groan, leaning down and moving across her with the speed of lightning. He spread himself on top of her, trapping her between his legs, grinding his now rock-hard erection against her mound.

"You have no fucking idea what you are asking for," he hissed between his teeth, moving up her body, sinking his face into her shoulder, sucking, kissing and nipping the pulsing cords of her neck, eliciting a tortured whimper from her.

"I'll take my chances." She hissed, arching her back in pleasure as he took in a mouthful of her soft skin, sucking and licking.

He growled in disapproval.

"Confunded, I tell you." He started to kiss down from her neck towards her chest, burying his face in the small section of cleavage that was visible from her v-necked charcoal grey jumper. He brought his large hand up to palm one of her breasts, the plump fullness of it eliciting another slow grind of his hips against hers.

"Ye Gods woman, what are you doing to me? One handful of your ripe tit and I'm ready to come in my pants like a schoolboy."

She gave him her most innocent smile and covered his hand with own, encouraging him to continue squeezing and exploring her breast.

"I have no doubt you will be the fucking death of me, Hermione. Sit up; I need to get rid of some clothing that is surplus to requirements."

He rocked back on his knees and pulled her to a sitting position, running his hands down her back to the hem of her soft jumper before catching hold of it and pulling it over her head in one smooth movement. "Merlin," he exclaimed quietly, getting his first eyeful of her breasts in their cerulean-blue lace covered brassiere. Keeping her upright by supporting her back, he buried his face between them and began to kiss and lick any uncovered skin his tongue could reach. When this proved insufficient to slake his ardour, he moved across to her covered nipple, latching his mouth over her breast, kissing and sucking her through the bra.

She shivered in delight whilst holding the back of his head, enjoying his ministrations to her breasts, gathering up handfuls of long black hair and tugging oh-so-gently and inflaming his every synapse. Soon, his partially-stooped position was causing his damaged back to ache, so he sat back on his heels and immediately her hands flew to the front of his shirt, her fluttering fingers unfastening his buttons. He covered her hands with his to stop her, and she looked at him in confusion.

"My top for yours, Severus, surely?" and her eyes glittered at him in a mischievous fashion that he found rather arousing.

"You must understand; I am wholly imperfect. I am not a young wizard, and I have a degree of damage to my person that you may find ... unsettling." His shame and reticence were back, and he looked at her in embarrassment, as if he were worried his body would disappoint her.

In response, she wandlessly cancelled the glamours on her two major scars, the deep gash on her chest and stomach she had received from the death eater Antonin Dolohov in the Department of Mysteries, and the ugly _mudblood_ carved into her arm by Bellatrix Lestrange on the floor of Malfoy Manor with a cursed dagger, leaving the scar permanently unable to fully heal.

Her action spoke more to him than any words ever could. He gazed upon her scarred chest, marvelling that the glamour she had applied meant that he had not felt the raised scar under his lips, and then lowered his eyes in anger to the word scrawled on her arm. He knew exactly which of the Dark Lord's parasites had put it there, and how proud the insane witch had been as she boasted of her handiwork.

"I apologise," he told her quietly, and let his arms fall by his sides. She reached out to him and continued to unfasten the buttons on his white shirt as his chest heaved with deep breaths. When she had it fully undone, she did not push it off his shoulders, instead just exposed his chest and stomach to her gaze, trailing her hands across the abraded flesh, wondering what torture he must have endured to result in such explicit patterns of scarring.

He watched intently, as if waiting for her to deliver a verdict.

She stroked up to his nipples and circled them simultaneously with her forefingers, grinning as they hardened under her sensitive touch.

"Never apologise for who you are, Severus. I happen to like you very much, exactly the way that you are. Except ... except you were in the middle of teaching me something, and you seem to have stopped." She met his eyes and the mischief in them was clear for him to read.

He raised an eyebrow at her, a thoroughly wicked expression alight with rapacious sexual intent that sent a jolt of arousal directly to her core.

Quick as a flash, he slipped his hands behind her back and deftly unfastened the hooks of her brassiere, pulling it from her in one swift movement before pushing her to lie with the pile of pillows supporting her head. Lying down next to her, he could not rip his eyes from her bared breasts.

"You, Granger, have marvellous tits. Full, ripe, not too big or small, and with immaculate pink nipples. I cannot tell you how much I want to suck on them, for as long as you will let me."

He took one breast in his wide palm and captured the other in his mouth, latching on to her darkened areola and suckling blissfully at her nipple, causing her to gasp out with the sudden hit of pleasure. Her other breast was being hefted by his large hand, his clever fingers finding her hardening nipple, pinching and rolling the sensitive bud into a peak.

She opened her eyes and looked down, finding the vision of the inky black head of Professor Snape suckling at her breast an erotic treat for her senses. She was rather enjoying the _naughtiness_ of the whole experience. Maybe her lush dream about him taking her roughly on one of the Potions classroom workbenches wasn't such an outrageously unlikely fantasy after all.

He stopped what he was doing and lifted his head, propping himself up on his elbow and looked down his long nose at her.

"Dirty girl."

"What?" she asked; nonplussed.

"Your thoughts are screaming at me again, witch. You are a very loud thinker, most unwise, especially in the presence of an innate Legilimens."

"Oh," she blushed. "You saw. Um, the classroom?"

"Indeed the classroom," his face was as flushed with excitement as hers. "Certainly something to explore at a later date, don't you think? After all, that is the place where you are most used to taking _instruction_ from me."

She blushed deeply, and he bowed his head to kiss her squarely and soundly on the lips, tilting her chin upwards and pushing his tongue into her mouth, rolling it with her own, before stopping abruptly, causing her to let out a little whine of protest.

"Patience, little witch, I have something else to teach you. Watch carefully."

He languorously flicked his hand slowly to the side, gesturing across the pair of them. Immediately, they were both divested of their lower garments which flew across the room and landed, neatly folded, on a high-backed chair in the corner. She automatically shivered, unsure if it was from cold, surprise or excitement. He pointed at the fire to stoke it higher, increasing the temperature in the bedchamber to suit their naked state.

"How am I supposed to learn that? You didn't say anything!"

"You are not supposed to learn it," he drawled, dipping his head back towards her mouth to capture her lips in hers, "You are supposed to be impressed. Now, hush."

He resumed kissing her thoroughly, his sharp tongue probing the very depths of her mouth from his dominant position above her. He ran his long fingers down her naked front, caressing the sides of her plump breasts on the way down. She gasped and arched her back as his hand slid over her flat stomach and she knew where he was headed. He chuckled darkly into her mouth at her skittishness and eagerness.

His fingertips brushed across the outer lips of her labia, gently stroking up and down with a featherlight touch, teasing her, making her wait, testing her patience. She had enjoyed this kind of play with Ron, and briefly with Viktor, but neither of them had made her feel like _this_ , straining and twisting for their fingers, making her damp with arousal from the slightest touch. Severus Snape was a revelation indeed, in so many ways.

Finally, she felt him spread her outer lips, and run a finger from top to bottom with a firm stroke. She nearly bucked right out of his grip at the sensation.

"Easy, little witch, easy. Just enjoy me touching you. Fuck me, you feel divine, so soft and wet under my fingers. Is this all for me?" he spoke deeply against her lips.

"All for you ... more ...please." her usual articulacy seemed to have deserted her at this particular moment.

"It would be my very great pleasure." He rumbled, unexpectedly sinking a finger deep inside her, causing her to gasp into his mouth.

He began to agitate his finger inside her, stirring up her wet, sticky fluid.

"So wet for me ..." he whispered, more to himself than anything. The girl was as tight and hot as his wildest dreams, her pussy clinging to his invading finger like a leech. He added a second finger, gently spreading and stretching her.

He was utterly surprised to feel her slip her hand between them and grasp his erect cock, which hardened from interested observer to ready participant in a matter of strokes. How long had it been since he'd had any hand on his prick other than his own? The wench was rubbing her tiny hand upon and down, finishing each stroke with a twist of her wrist, just as he liked it. Clearly she'd done that before. Thank Merlin, he wasn't sure how experienced she was after her blushing so delightfully when he'd mentioned putting his head between her legs last weekend, but her confidence and lack of nerves tonight showed him she knew what she was doing, just probably a little inexperienced, not surprising if she had only slept with the youngest Weasley. Good though, he didn't want the guilt of taking her virginity.

Conscience assuaged, he allowed her to continue stroking his cock, and began to plunder her depths in earnest with his fingers. He used his thumb to reach under the hood that concealed her clitoris, rubbing it gently, beginning to circle the sensitive bundle of nerves in a ceaseless rhythm, enjoying watching her lithe body squirm under the touch of his hand.

He leaned over her a little, cutting off her access to his cock, mauling her neck with his mouth. He removed his fingers from inside her warmth, concentrating all his efforts on rolling her hard little clit between his thumb and index finger, rewarded by her increasing moans of pleasure. He latched his mouth to her ear.

"That's it, little witch. I feel how close you are. Let it go for me. Come, Hermione, come right into my hand. Feel my fingers on you, just _here_."

He tightened his hold on her tortured clit and wiggled it, eliciting a scream and sending waves of agitation through her; she was almost wetting herself with the desire to come.

"That's it. That's it. Let me have it. Oh, _good_ girl."

She had exploded, her stomach contracting with every pulse of her desperate orgasm, flooding his hand with hot fluid from deep inside her.

"Oh, Severus. Oh my god. Oh bloody Merlin. Uggggh." She took a massive deep breath and exhaled it, trying to get some oxygen to the rest of her body.

He had a young, naked witch lying on his bed, spasming with the aftershocks of an orgasm elicited by his own hand – what was a wicked Slytherin wizard to do but take advantage?

He knelt up, pushing her legs apart and insinuating himself in the cradle of her thighs. He could feel her burning warmth even from here. He looked into her eyes, raising his eyebrow to question her, to receive her implicit consent.

"Oh, yes ..." she hissed.

"He spread her pulsing labia wide open and lined up the head of his cock, now purple with desire after watching her come apart under his hand, with her wet hole and with a hard, wicked thrust, crammed himself fully inside her.

She screamed, and he froze in horror, his prick buried balls deep in her burning sheath.

Neither of them spoke. She had not told him, and he had not asked. He had just ripped through her maidenhead like an muggle wrecking ball.

She found her voice first.

"I'm so sorry. I should have told you. I just, just honestly didn't think. You are very distracting, Severus."

"I am equally guilty. I did not ask and that is unforgiveable."

"Not unforgiveable. It is a conversation we should have had, but other things took over. There is no harm done."

"No harm?" he raised his eyebrow.

"Not apart from the necessary damage. And while we are talking sensibly, I want you to take my virgin's blood."

Those eyebrows of his shot straight up into his hairline. Had he heard her correctly? The first blood of a virgin, willingly given, was one of the most potent ingredients a master could have in his store cupboard. It was almost impossible to purchase, and even if one were to locate a source, the amount of galleons required to complete the transaction would be prohibitive.

She watched him tussle with his internal monologue again.

"There is no room for guilt here, between us. I know what a master potioneer like yourself could do with such a rare ingredient. My wasted blood could be used for so much good. Please take it."

He pulled out of her, taking care not to hurt her any further than he already had. He summoned a specimen phial from his private laboratory, along with a small device that he would use to extract her virgin's blood, which he had unwittingly spilt.

He placed his hand over her abdomen, sending a warm pain-relieving spell through her to dull the ache where she had torn. He bade her to relax while he collected the precious blood from deep inside her, and magically siphoned off his person that which had gathered around his invading penis. When the blood flow ceased, he stoppered the phial and banished it to his stock cupboard where he stored his most valuable ingredients, and tossed the extracting implement into the fire.

Now he had taken her blood, he could now send a healing spell directly to the site of her pain, where she had torn at his intrusion. Her eyes closed in blissful pleasure as his spell soothed her insides, taking away the pain that had burned like fire inside her. _Merlin,_ she loved magic.

"Do you wish me to leave you to sleep?" his deep voice enquired, darkly.

Her eyelids flew open.

"Why would I want you to do that?"

"I have hurt you." He replied, simply but sadly.

"Look at me." She sat up and took his chin in her hand, moving his face around to look her in the eyes.

"I am no longer in pain; your spell has seen to that. Severus, I am still half a virgin. You certainly aren't leaving me like this." She grinned and planted a heavy kiss on his lips.

"Quite literally, witch, you will be the death of me," he grumbled, catching her around the back of the head and holding her to him so that she could not escape the kiss she had started.

Hermione pushed herself backwards, bringing Severus with her, positioning him between her legs. His cock had softened somewhat, but she could feel it hardening again as she kissed him deeply. She brought her hand up to her breast and began to play with one of her nipples, only to have him swat it away in annoyance.

" _I_ will do it." He wrenched his lips from hers, and slid down her body to take her warm breast in his mouth, suckling at her nipple, his moans of approval vibrating across her areola.

She began to rotate her hips against his now fully erect cock, enjoying the feel of the velvet skin across her labia. He moved back up so that his face was over hers, his long black hair hanging down from his face.

"I am deeply honoured, Hermione, to be the first wizard who will know you."

He slipped his hand between them and guided himself to her entrance, pushing inside her more gently this time. He savoured the moment as his cock slid up through her scalding wetness, her tight walls pushing down his skin and creating a sublime friction as he began to move back and forth.

She lifted her legs to wrap around his slim hips, and her hands pushed his unbuttoned shirt away from his shoulders. She could not pull it off as his hands were fixed on the bed for support, so instead she sent a wandless _Divesto_ to remove the shirt and have him fully naked.

"Nice work, Miss Granger, but needs to be non-verbal before you reach my standard," he teased, speeding up his thrusts inside her.

"Shut up and fuck me, Professor Snape," she grinned, showing him she could be just as kinky as he.

He obliged. Running her hands over his back, she could feel the severely abraded and ridged skin and kept her touches light and sensual rather than hard and passionate. She reached down to grasp his hips, encouraging him to fuck her harder, deeper, faster. He needed no further persuasion and began to piston into her, his hands either side of her head, eyes fixed on hers, black hair just tickling her face, swinging with the force of his thrusts.

He rotated his hips as he plunged, the upward motion hitting her spongy bundle of nerves at her deepest point. The blunt end of his cock irritated her g-spot in the most delicious way, tipping her a little more towards the edge with every thrust.

"Fuck, Hermione, I can't hold on, I cannot hold on," he panted through gritted teeth, sweat beading upon his brow.

"Don't hold on, Severus. Let yourself go. I want everything you have."

With a roar of release, he sped up his hips so fast they were blurred as they pounded into her. The first thick jets of semen spurted from the end of his cock as she came, her insides spasming around his pulsating shaft. She felt him spurt three, four, five times inside her, exclaiming with ecstasy with each one.

She pulled him down to lay on top of her, needing and enjoying the masculine weight of him. His breathing was fast and harsh in her ear, their hair soaked to their faces with sweat. She was no longer a virgin, and had achieved her new status in the most delicious of ways, with the most reverent of wizards.

When his breathing stabilised, he rolled off her, sending a spell towards the fire to dampen it to a low burn, the room had become unfathomably hotter. Both of them were too sleepy and satiated to even contemplate moving. He opened one eye and looked across at the curly-haired witch naked and half-asleep in his bed. Taking her hand in his, he closed his eye in satisfaction.

"Outstanding, Miss Granger," he drawled, "simply outstanding."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Severus awoke, unsure how many hours had passed since the two of them had collapsed into sleep. Hermione was curled away from him, her brown curls taking over the pillow, gold flecks dancing in the low light of the fire. He shivered, and reached for his wand on the bedside table, casting a neat little spell on the quilt which pulled itself out from under their naked bodies and floated down on top of them. Hermione stirred, pulling the quilt around herself before scooting backwards until her smooth back was flush against the scarred flesh of his chest.

"Is it morning?" she enquired, sleepily.

"It is not. I would estimate only two or three hours have passed."

"Well that's good." He could hear the smile in her voice and soon had one on his face to match as she reached behind her back over his, cupping his bare buttock with her hand, pulling his hips in to spoon with hers.

His traitorous prick, starved of any action for so very long before that night, registered its interest within seconds, and she soon had a fairly impressive erection pressing against the crack of her arse. He slipped his arm between her head and the pillow and pulled the top half of her body as close to his as the lower part, leaning in to nip her ear with the edge of his teeth.

"And why, may I ask, is it good?" he rumbled against her ear.

"Because it means we have plenty of time left. I do not wish to waste any of our cocooning time on such tiresome things as sleep."

"Insufferable little wench. I have twenty years on you; I shall need sleep, even if you do not require it."

"Twenty years is nothing, especially not for a wizard. You are not even considered middle-aged for a good while yet."

He opened his mouth to argue the point, but was interrupted by the undulating of her rear end against his cock. He defied any wizard to come up with a salient point in the face of _that_ kind of provocation. He lowered his lips to the sensitive skin where her neck met her collarbone and began to lick and suck, feeling her shiver again, although this time not from the cold.

Sure of his welcome, he smoothed his hand over her bare hip and down her leg, slipping it under her thigh and lifting it, curling her leg around him, opening her pussy up wide and positioning himself at her entrance, still wet from the juices of both of their earlier orgasms. He used his hand to guide his cock neatly into her, the decent size of him stretching her blissfully-aching walls; then quickly moved his hand around to place flat across her stomach fixing her in place, bottomed out on the base of his eager prick.

"Ohhh, yes. So nice. So full. Move inside me, Severus." She reached behind her and wrapped a slim arm around his neck, keeping his head close to hers. He reached down and spread her labia with his long fingers, seeking out her clitoris, whilst beginning a slow in-and-out movement with his cock inside her, so different from their frantic first coupling earlier on.

"You are an unexpected pleasure, Hermione." He drawled, skilfully teasing her bud out of hiding with one finger so skilfully that she gasped, "I cannot tell you how much I enjoy fucking you."

Her reply was not anything particularly coherent and he gave a dark chuckle as he increased both the speed and depth of his thrusts, and kept up his incessant soft flicking of her clit. He could not help but be amazed at the scene taking place in his professorial bedchamber at Hogwarts, just a few steps away from the dank classroom where he spent his days lecturing slack-minded adolescents.

He was lying languorously on his side, his slightly oily black head on the pillow; with his fingers and cock in the cunt of a formidably intelligent witch twenty years his junior. She was every wank dream he'd ever had come to life, and more. His hips began to move faster, nailing this girl – young woman – to the hilt, wanting once again to reach his completion inside of her. Her apparent acceptance of him, the delicious _consent_ of the situation – the fact that she was being coerced neither by fear or coin, here of her own volition, was more arousing to him than he could have expected.

A drawn-out mewling from Hermione and her hips frantically moving to increase the friction between them tipped him into a higher gear, and he used the arm that was under her head to reach forward and grasp one of her delicious breasts, gently squeezing it and rolling her nipple between his fingers. At the same time he took hold of her clit with the other hand and applied the same rolling motion to it as her nipple. She let out a soft scream at the unexpected change in pressure, and he felt her vaginal walls clench around his cock.

"Fuck! Fuck, Severus! Please, make me come, push as deep as you can. I want to feel you."

He did not need telling twice, and snapped his hips forward, cramming his large cock hard inside her, almost making him lose his hold on her clitoris. He stayed thrust in deep to maintain contact; and titillated her clit with his continued twiddling, masturbating the erect little bud up and down between his thumb and forefinger relentlessly until she screamed in release, her nectar flooding his cock and her inner walls sucking him in like a vice.

He was so utterly enthralled by the feeling of her coming apart around him that he only needed a few deep thrusts before his panting release joined hers, hot spurts of come were bursting from the end of his joyous cock and mingling with her juices until he was thrusting into a wet, hot mess. He stayed inside her, keeping the sweating, panting girl held close against his chest.

"I am not sure I have ever heard the word _fuck_ from your lips, Miss Granger. I found it curiously erotic."

"I am not sure I ever had cause to say it ... until now." She turned her head slightly and kissed him on the side of his mouth, the only bit she could reach.

They lay in their spooned position for a short while, before he finally pulled out his softened penis and Hermione started to feel a somewhat unpleasant dripping, and suggested a bath.

"Am I to assume that I may be fortunate enough to be invited into this bath? Or were you proposing a solitary activity?"

"We both need to wash. If your tub is big enough, I suggest one lot of water will do us both. I am very happy to share. With _you_." She grinned. "Then afterwards what about getting into pyjamas and having some supper sprawled out in front of that glorious fire of yours in the sitting room? I have got to admit I really am quite hungry."

Severus privately thought that sounded like one of the best plans for a Friday evening than he'd ever heard in his whole life, but thought it might sound unbearably needy to say so. He rolled away from Hermione and sat up on the bed, putting his feet on the cold floor, pointed his ebony wand at the en-suite bathroom and the wall sconces in the small room flickered to life, and the bath began to fill. Hermione looked impressed.

"Smooth. Is there no end to your talents, Sir?"

"I will allow you to be the judge of that." He smirked. "You go in, and I shall join you. May I fetch your bag from the living room; presumably you will require the aforementioned pyjamas from it?"

She nodded gratefully and stepped into the bathroom, now filled with herby-smelling steam, while he _Accio'd_ her bag from the small table in the next room and placed it on the bed, ready for when she had finished in the bath.

Hermione was impressed by the sumptuous en-suite. Although small, it had everything a busy professor could need, including a large separate stone-walled shower cubicle, but the bath was _the_ focal point of the room. Large and round, it was sunken into a waist-height stone dais and she suspected four people could bathe in there and still be comfortable. She sat on the edge of the dais and swung her legs into the deep, warm water, followed by the rest of her.

Letting loose with an involuntary moan, she sank down into the bubbles, feeling whatever herbal concoction that Snape had added start to work instantly on her sore muscles. The wizard himself put his head around the door and stepped into the bathroom, raising an eyebrow at her blissful moaning.

"I sincerely hope you are not enjoying yourself too much in there?" he walked towards the bath, still naked, and sat on the side of the dais, reaching out a hand to her.

"I can't help it. Everything aches, in a good way I suppose, but aching nonetheless. But whatever you have put in this water seems to be doing a grand job."

He swung his legs into the bath and settled down behind her, pulling her to lie on his chest while he trickled warm water over her hair and shoulders.

"Really Granger, anyone would think I was a Master of Potions, knowing what restorative essences to add to a post-coital bath." She could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Well, rumour _does_ have it." She teased, grabbing a sponge from the side of bath and cleaning herself, before turning around to do the same for him, squeezing water from the sponge onto his head. Before he could argue, she had soaked his hair through.

"I'll wash it properly for you tomorrow, if you'll permit me? This bath is more for relaxation purposes tonight." She snuggled up against his wet body, bubbles getting squashed between them and going up her nose, making her sneeze. He put his arms around her, planting a kiss on the top of her wet head in agreement.

\- xxx –

Hermione had dried herself on couple of Hogwarts fluffiest bath towels, those ones certainly weren't available to the students, and had put on her pyjamas that she'd packed in the beaded bag. She'd finally settled on soft little shorts in a neutral taupe colour, and a plain black stretchy vest top. A pair of fluffy black socks didn't necessarily complete the look to its full effect but were necessary on a cold stone dungeon floor. She plaited her damp hair down one side and watched as Severus left the bathroom with a towel slung around his hips.

She did her best to pretend she was not watching his lithe body as her moved across the bedchamber to his tall chest of drawers. He was slim, but not uncomfortably so, and definitely not lanky. Every muscle and sinew stood out, taut and strong beneath his skin. He was mostly hairless apart from his forearms and lower legs, which had a fine covering of black hair. A soft thatch also travelled from his belly button and ended ... somewhere under the towel. When he turned to open a drawer, she saw the full horror of his back for the first time.

The tell-tale scars put there by the wicked lash of a whip stood out all over, from his neck to his waist, all in different stages of healing. She could not help her sharp intake of breath which made him turn around and glare at her.

"Do not pity me, Hermione. These marks are no more than I deserve."

"This is not pity, Severus. This is concern because some of those scars are unhealed, and look awfully sore."

"Madam Pomfrey has prescribed a balm. I ... do not often apply it; I have not really felt the need to do so."

She took her carved vinewood wand from the beaded bag.

"Accio healing balm!"

He raised his eyebrow but did not admonish her. A large jar of thick yellow cream flew into her hand.

"This is unused." Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "Come and sit on the bed with me, please. And before you argue you should know I am _very_ persistent and will not take no for an answer."

Surprisingly without dissent, he walked over the bed and sat down, turning his damaged back to face her. She dipped her hand into the jar and drew it out with a good handful of the gooey concoction. Dividing it between both her hands, she began to spread it out over his back, eliciting the tiniest moan of pleasured relief, so quiet she barely heard it, but it was definitely there. This balm was clearly soothing to him, and she resolved to apply it for him as often as he would allow.

She continued for longer than strictly necessary, rubbing the cream deeply into the largest scars and pressing her thumbs into the least-damaged skin to provide a tension-relieving massage.

"You are done. For now." She leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss to his shoulder blade.

"Thank you." He did not turn round, but stood up and moved towards his chest of drawers again, seeking out a nightshirt. As he held the bobbled, knee-length grey shirt in his hands, he realised how very old and very ugly it was, and what an inappropriate garment it would be for the suggested _sprawling_ in front of the fire. Holding it in his hands, he turned around.

"I had not given thought to night time attire. I confess my choices are somewhat old-fashioned, driven by habit and comfort."

He looked at her vest and shorts, impossibly cute and extremely sexy, even with the fluffy socks. Eyeing the old granddad nightshirt, she picked up her wand again, slashing the ugly item in two before transfiguring one half into a pair of soft, comfortable lounge pants, and other into a fitted short-sleeved t-shirt, ideally shaped for his slim figure. Both items landed in his waiting hands.

"See?" she told him. "You still have the soft material which I am guessing is soothing to your healing wounds, but now you are ever-so-slightly more modern, Professor." She winked at him.

He dropped his towel to the floor and stood naked in front of her, smirking as he watched her eyes dropped straight to his cock, which twitched obligingly in its black nest, as if it were showing off with a little dance for its audience.

"How rude to stare at your Professor's cock, Miss Granger. Anyone would think you liked it."

She smirked wickedly at him, and he decided it was best to put on the newly transfigured pyjamas before he ravaged her for a third time before supper. The garments felt rather nice, soft against his skin but much less ageing and a little more attractive than the old nightshirt.

He took her hand and led her into the living room, sticking his head in the fire to call for the supper he had ordered from the kitchens before stoking the flame high to warm the room. Almost instantly, a house-elf had cracked into his quarters, setting their supper of thick pumpkin broth and warm buttered rolls on the small table.

"Thank you, Fen," Snape told the elf, in genuine appreciation. "And remember what I told you. You are not to tell anyone that I have a guest in my room."

"Fen is seeing nothing, and saying nothing, Master of Potions! Fen is honoured to serve the Master of Potions all by himself. Fen is most envied by the other house-elves, Sir."

"Thank you," he repeated, "You are an excellent elf. I am most pleased with you."

Fen beamed as if this was the most wonderful thing he had ever been told, and blushed scarlet to the tips of his flapping ears, his tennis-ball sized eyes filling with tears before he cracked out of the room again.

"The praise." Hermione smiled. "They live for the praise. I learned that from Kreacher while we were living at Grimmauld Place."

"Correct. Praise and thanks costs nothing. Wizards and elves are both happy. Even Kreacher, who is the most surly, unpleasant house-elf it has ever been my misfortune to meet. Now come, let us eat."

Hermione wondered how he knew Kreacher so well, before presuming it must be from his time at Grimmauld Place whilst it was the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Her empty stomach insisted she turn her attention back to her food and she gobbled down the delicious root broth with speed, dunking the hot bread and making noises of satisfaction, which was a bit embarrassing but it was late and she was hungry. Watching her devour the food with gusto, Severus found himself imitating her, taking pleasure in the creamy texture of the soup, the fiery snap of the excellent seasoning, and the crunch of the hot rolls between his teeth as he bit into them. He found himself rather surprised at his enjoyment of the sensuous pleasure of a simple meal.

She watched him covertly as he ate. A tall man who could stand to gain at least a stone, if not more, was surely not eating terribly well and it gave her a feeling of triumph to watch him appear to enjoy his food, rather than just processing it. It gave her another idea to add to her plan to help Snape, good nutrition would help his healing, and she resolved that when they were together, she would ensure that he ate well.

\- xxx –

After supper, they were snuggled up (although she quickly learned that Severus despised the word _snuggle_ ) on his hard grey sofa in front of the fire, made more comfortable by lots of blankets and cushions propped around and over them. Hermione was sitting between his thighs with her head resting on his chest while his long legs were stretched out down the length of the sofa. He was twirling a long brown curl between his fingers.

He had not, for as long as he could remember, felt such a sense of relaxation and contentment. In his mind he wrestled with one single thought,

 _I want her._

 _Constantly._


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Severus was in sensualist heaven. He felt the heat of the fire crackling in the grate, and the softness of the many cushions and blankets they had made themselves a nest of some sorts in, warding against the unforgiving hardness of his old grey sofa. Best of all was the warm, gentle air that Hermione was breathing out on to his chest which he could feel through his new soft, grey tshirt as she lay atop him, her lower body on the sofa between his slightly spread legs.

One of her hands was also laid upon him, rising and falling with his own breaths. He had an arm casually draped across her, his hand resting on the smooth skin at the small of her back which he was gently stroking with his thumb. He felt nothing but pleasure. He'd had two rounds of astounding sex, been fed and watered without having to leave his chambers and was now _snuggled_ (his lip curled involuntarily in distaste at the asinine word) on his own sofa with this beautiful young witch.

He lowered his chin to plant a kiss on the top of her head, simply because he could. It was a most singular experience. She lightly kissed his chest in return and he was astonished. Was it as easy as this? Surely he had missed the punchline somewhere. This kind of ... _situation_ was not the sort of thing that happened to Severus Snape; the sullen, malevolent bat. Was Granger playing a trick on him? He decided to dismiss that notion immediately, as any kind of trick that required a witch to shag him (twice) would surely not be worth any woman's while to play.

Then what the hell was she doing here with him? She was not Confunded, or under an Imperius curse, and seemed to be acting alone. However strange it seemed, the girl genuinely seemed to be taking pleasure in spending time with him. Could he possibly allow himself to believe that she was sincere?

Not that it really mattered as she would find out who he truly was soon enough, and run screaming for the hills, no doubt. His stomach unexpectedly lurched at that thought. He found himself most disinclined to part company with her. But that surely was inevitable.

Hermione lay with her head on his chest, enjoying the feel of his hand gently stroking the exposed skin on her lower back and the reliable, steady beat of his heart against her ear. He really was a very reassuring presence. His very demeanour, his power and strength, made her feel utterly safe and protected in a way she had not felt before. He felt solid and dependable.

She did not feel intimidated by him anymore, but recognised that he obviously still had the ability to instil that feeling in others, which made her feel curiously smug. She rather liked the idea of seeing a side of Professor Snape that no one else was allowed to. The strong but gentle man she was currently laying on was a world away from the austere, unapproachable wizard clothed in black that stalked the corridors of Hogwarts.

She had given him her virginity with no apprehension or regret. He had taken care of her, physically and emotionally, she could not have asked for a better experience for her first time. Even with the unexpected pain of his first hard thrust, where he had not known she was a virgin, was not something to dwell upon. Thinking with her logical brain first as always, Hermione reasoned that a quick, sharp pain was far better than stringing the inevitable discomfort out by attempting to go slowly and carefully. Rather like pulling off a sticking plaster in one quick movement, she thought, smiling to herself. There had certainly been no lasting harm done and Severus could not have been more caring about it; quickly healing her, she actually felt mostly relieved that the ordeal was over and done with; now she could get on with enjoying sex.

She could not stop a smile creeping to the corners of her mouth as she remembered the second time they had made love, after they'd awoken. Now that was something incredible. His skilled experience had brought her to a blistering climax, far better than she'd ever achieved at her own hand. She supposed that was the difference between sleeping with a man rather than a boy.

Hermione felt him press a firm kiss to the top of her head, and answered him by turning her head on his chest and kissing him through the soft grey cotton of the tshirt she had transfigured for him. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the reassuring thump of his heart against her ear.

She soon noticed that the steady beat had begun to speed up, and that his muscles were tensing beneath her. He held on to her a little tighter, and she heard his breathing become somewhat more rapid. She sat up slightly and twisted to face him.

"What is wrong?"

He looked at her quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"I felt your heartbeat speed up, and your muscles are tensing around me."

He had been thinking about the time when he would inevitably lose her, and _whatever it was_ that they currently had together. There was no way he would or should tell her that, but she had clearly picked up on subtle bodily tells as to his anxiety.

"Just tell me." She raised her hand to his face and stroked his cheek softly with her thumb, similar to how she had touched him earlier as he'd sat in front of her in the wingback chair.

To his own surprise, as if she'd dosed him with Veritaserum, he began to explain.

"I find myself most disorientated by what is happening, Hermione. Already you occupy most of my waking thoughts, except when necessity dictates I must focus on the dunderheads lest one of them destroys my classroom. I have done nothing this week other than look forward to your arrival here."

He sat up and shuffled back a little so they were sitting upright and facing each other in the nest of blankets and cushions. He laid his arm along the back of the sofa and gently clasped her bare shoulder, her long curly hair tickling the back of his hand. She reached for his other hand, resting loosely in his lap, and held it with both of hers, encouraging him to continue.

"I spent half the time fearful that you would not come, and the other half worrying about what we would do if you did arrive as planned."

"Surely you cannot be too unhappy about our activities thus far?" She smiled at him, a stunning smile that reached right to her eyes and twinkled there, mischievously.

He smirked at the corner of his mouth, and cast his eyes to the fire, away from her gaze, a little embarrassed.

"Truthfully, I am not sure I have ever passed such a pleasant evening, Hermione." He swung his black eyes back to hers; looking at her with such intensity that it flipped her stomach with desire. "I have never in all my life experienced such sustained pleasure and comfort as you are currently gifting me with. But using the previous forty years of my life as a barometer, I would suggest that fate will intervene sooner rather than later and conspire to take you from me."

She took a deep breath and arranged her thoughts before answering.

"Far be it for me to tell you how to live your life, and I appreciate that at present that I have more to learn about you, but you cannot keep living as a slave to the past. I know of some things you have done, others I am sure you will tell me, but everyone, _and that means everyone,_ who survived this war deserves the chance of a future. None of us are blameless, none of us walked away without blood on our hands."

"Some of us have rather more blood stains on our hands than others."

"Who is keeping a tally? What difference does the amount matter? From what I can see, you have condemned yourself to this half-life, this existence in the dungeons of Hogwarts, as some kind of penance for the crimes you feel you have committed. Haven't you learned from what has gone before? You ended up playing the formidable role in the war that you did, at great personal risk, because of the guilt you felt over the death of Lily Potter. Don't make the same mistake twice, Severus."

He turned from her abruptly and made to stand up from the sofa.

"You go too far, witch."

Anyone else would have been chastened by the admonishment from Professor Snape, but he had reckoned without the tenacity of Hermione Granger however, and she tightened her hold on his hand, preventing him from standing up. He looked at his hand, clasped tightly between hers, and his eyes flashed with anger. She did not however, release him, but gently tugged him around to face her again.

"The truth is always painful," she began, stroking the back of his hand with her small fingers, "and I am sure you feel very deep, very real pain. But you cannot live like this. I can see how tired you are, how you simply _exist_ here rather than truly living."

"I cannot see a way forward for me. I was never meant to survive the war. Voldemort nearly killed me many a time, but I clung to life to fulfil the mission that Dumbledore had requested of me. I should have died, festering on the floor of the Shrieking Shack and it would have been no more than a foul human like myself would have deserved."

His eyes looked full of pain, a torment that he had been carrying around for decades. Hermione's heart broke for the misunderstood man who was his very own worst enemy. She had no more words to say without repeating herself, and to hammer the point home repeatedly would sound like vacuous platitudes. She leaned forward and pressed her lips softly to his, keeping hold of the hand in his lap. He did not try to speak, or stop her, but did not respond to the kiss either. She continued to lightly kiss his lips, using his hand to lever herself up until she knelt before him, and crawled onto his lap, placing her legs either side of his hips, and sliding her hands up to his shoulders where they crept behind his neck and squeezed his taut muscle there.

"Hermione, I don't ... you don't ..." he tried to say, his voice deep and husky with unshed tears and repressed emotion.

She drew back slightly and put her finger to his lips.

"No one, and I mean _no one_ , has ever kissed me like you have. That really is quite enough talk and self-recrimination for tonight. We will heal you, whether or not you feel you deserve it. But right now I need you to kiss me, to feel how much I want to be with you, despite your disbelief."

He stared at her, his eyes flashing obsidian with desire, not only for her kiss, but for her to be speaking the truth. Severus was so tired, so obscenely tired, of feeling guilty.

He slid his hands up to her hips, pulling them down against his own, at the same time crashing his mouth to hers and forcing his tongue between her willing lips. She began to move her hips, bucking slowly against him, agitating his prick which very soon registered its interest in the current activity, swelling to a rapid erection against which she rubbed her hot core. She writhed in his lap as cushions began to fall to the floor and blankets crumpled up around them. He slipped his long fingers down the back of her shorts and squeezed her bare arse cheeks, making her gasp into his mouth.

He groaned; his penis was rock hard against her.

" _Holy fuck_ , witch, what are you doing to me?" he muttered between kisses, "I cannot keep my hands from you. I think only of the next time I can touch you."

She began to kiss across his cheek to his ear where she began nibbling his lobe before moving down and sucking the sensitive cords of his neck, strands of his long black hair falling on her face. He cursed blissfully, and clenched his fingers tighter over her bum, making her slim hips rub faster against his erection, building up the most sublime friction.

"Hermione," he panted, "Hermione, I need ... I have to, please, I want to be inside you."

"You are better at the spells, as you pointed out," she grinned into his neck.

He used a wandless, non-verbal _Divesto_ to send her shorts and his lounge pants sailing to the floor. Without changing her position, Hermione pushed herself up to her knees to create a little space and he reached between them to position his cock, now purple with need, at her damp entrance. She felt the warm mushroom head touch her folds and she slid herself down until it bottomed out deep within her.

" _Unnnggghhh_ ", he groaned, long and loud. "Fucking, bloody Merlin."

"Fucking bloody Hermione, actually," she teased.

He grasped one of her hips so suddenly and tightly it made her squeak, and raised his other hand to reach under her hair and around the back of her neck, holding her steady. She stayed on her knees and he began to undulate underneath her, thrusting slow and deep into her wet channel, his eyes searing dangerously into hers.

"Now you listen to me, Hermione," through teeth clenched with the effort of maintaining a slow, steady pace. "You are outstanding, little witch, and I will take delight in fucking you for just as long as you will have me."

Hermione thought that for all his self-doubt, Severus certainly knew how to boost a girl's self-confidence in the sex department. This was all so new to her, but she could honestly say that she didn't want it to stop. Right at that minute, this dark wizard and his dark, cold chambers were the absolute centre of her world.

Severus placed his feet flat on the sofa, for once in his life grateful that the grey beast was so hard and solid, as it gave him a secure surface to thrust upwards into the cunt of this delicious peach of a witch. He reached between them, seeking out her throbbing bud of nerves and titillating it like a marble in oil. She let out an exclamation of surprised satisfaction, and he looked up, enjoying the expression on her face and wanting to watch her come, to release her hot juice all over his cock.

"Come for me," he growled rolling his finger around the surface of her clitoris until he was certain he had touched every one of the thousands of nerve endings contained within, tormenting them with his soft stroking towards an inevitable conclusion. She began to let loose with little pants as she wriggled around in his lap. He kept his thrusting at a steady pace while her bud turned from spongy to solid beneath his skilful fingertips. He knew she was close and gifted her with a surprising twist to her clit which tossed her over the edge, he felt her pussy clench around his cock and her fluid flow down his length and onto his balls.

His own need was throbbing with urgency as he thrust into her slickness again and again. He was starting to feel the lactic acid build up in his thighs but there was no way he was stopping or changing position. He wanted to shoot his full load straight upwards. He clenched his arse cheeks and began to thrust hard and deep, spurred on by her cries.

Hermione pulled up her vest top and took hold of her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples right in front of his face. What the hell was any heterosexual wizard supposed to do in the face of such outright provocation? The sight of those rosy pink nipples being plucked inches from his salivating mouth sent an electric shock straight to his prick and with a huge thrust he came, shouting his release inside her.

She sat astride him as he spurted twice, three times inside her, before slowing his hips and breathing deeply, his chest heaving with the effort of refilling his lungs with air. She was doing the same. Looking up at her, she was an utter picture of innocence debauched with her wild curls around her shoulders, stomach rippling with the aftershocks of her climax, and her vest pulled up above her perfect, firm breasts. He reached up and squeezed one tit, thumbing the nipple.

"I will never get tired of watching you play with your own tits, Granger," he smirked in that lop-sided way of his, lifting up his free hand to claim the other one. "Although I do much prefer doing the job myself."

She laid her hands over his, feeling the path of his questing hands as they squeezed her breasts.

"I've never done it before," she admitted. "I just felt ... so turned-on, so sexy, I just wanted to do it. _You_ made me feel like that."

"You are without doubt the sexiest little witch it has ever been my pleasure to stick my worthless cock into. If this is how your first time has you responding I can only hope you will continue to use my chambers as your weekend cocoon so we can practice further."

"I intend to. But first I think ... yes, _Tergeo_!" she sent the cleaning spell over the two of them wandlessly to clean up the mess from their orgasms from the sofa and various parts of their bodies.

She hopped up from the sofa, retrieving her shorts and his sleep pants from the floor. She stepped into her shorts and passed him the trousers. He eyed her suspiciously from his semi-prone position at her swift exit.

"Let's go to bed? I know you are tired, I am too, but if we rest on the sofa we will no doubt fall asleep and wake up cramped and sore in the morning. I'd far rather wake up with you in that beautiful four-poster."

She had a good point. Clever girl. He would indeed have just ended up snoring on the sofa and waking up with backache. Hermione held out a hand to pull him up which he took as he swung his legs round and stood up, not that he needed it, but he appreciated the caring gesture.

He slipped into his trousers and took back her hand, pulling her towards the bedroom whilst shooting a spell over his shoulder to douse the fire, and another to return the cushions and blankets to their original positions.

"Show off." Hermione teased as they walked through the heavy wooden door to the bedchamber together.

"You have _no_ idea." He quipped, arrogantly.

Reaching the bed, she opened her beaded bag and drew out a toothbrush.

"Mind if I use the bathroom first? I know it seems strange after all we've done together over the last few hours but I really feel that cleaning my teeth and using the loo is definitely a solo activity?"

"Go right ahead." He gestured at the bathroom and sat upon the bed, running a brush through his hair. It was so fine it had tangled badly during the sofa session, and he let rip with a couple of muttered curses as he tugged the stiff bristles through his knotted black strands. He wondered if Hermione would make good on her promise to wash it for him tomorrow and hoped she wouldn't be too disgusted by his thin, greasy mop. He had not had his hair washed by another person since he was a very small boy.

Once Severus returned to the bedchamber from completing his own evening ablutions, the sight of Hermione curled up in his dark wood four-posted bed to the light of a solitary candle upon his bedside sent a jolt of joy to his tortured heart. She lay there, her mad hair spread across the pillow, eyes half closed with sleep. Goodness only knows what the time was, but he found he couldn't much care, they had the whole weekend and it mattered not what time they arose the following morning.

As he slipped into bed next to her, extinguishing the candle, lying on his back on the opposite side of the bed and pulling the covers over himself, she immediately scooted across to him, closing the gap between them. She threw an arm across his chest and snuggled under his arm, and he could not help but wrap his arm around her.

She slung a leg over his; exactly how they had woken up that first morning he had spent the night with her in the Hogwarts guest suite, as if claiming him completely. He wished, with all his heart; that she would.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Fen entered the Potions Master's private with the most silent _crack_ of elf apparition he could manage. He must not anger the Master of Potions. Fen must be a good elf. The Master of Potions trusted Fen.

The main sitting room was deserted, with the fire out and warded against intrusion; and everything neat and tidy. Master always kept his chambers tidy; he could not bear mess and disorder. Fen knew this. Fen performed a cursory clean of the room to ensure everything was spotless for the Master of Potions.

He pottered through to the bedchamber which was lit by the late-morning sun shining through the tiny windows at the top of the sunken dungeon walls. The raven head of his Master was slumbering upon the white pillows, a green quilt keeping the warmth around him. He had never known his Master to sleep this late into the day. Usually the Master was awake and out of bed before the sun had even fully risen in the sky. The Master did not sleep much. Fen knew the Master was troubled.

But this morning was different. The Master's guest, the curly-haired young Miss who used to live in the red Gryffindor tower until very recently, was in the bed too, wrapped around the Master. Fen supposed she had made such a comfortable nest for the Master that he was reluctant to leave it. The Master's face was serene and relaxed, as if the young Miss had cast a sleeping spell upon him, and was holding on to him to make sure the magic did not disperse.

Fen was happy to see the Master of Potions at rest. Too many times Fen had entered his bedchamber in the middle of the night, summoned by terrible screams, to see the dark wizard in the midst of a nightmare, bound by invisible ropes of pain that tormented him through his dreams.

Today was different. Today the Master's guest had helped the Master to sleep well. They would be very hungry when they awoke, so Fen apparated to the kitchen to fetch a large tray filled with food that had been left over from breakfast in the Great Hall earlier that morning. He returned to the bedchamber with the tray, placed a stasis charm on the food, and set it to hover a short distance from the bed, so that the Master of Potions would see it when he awoke and be pleased with Fen.

He stoked the dying fire a little higher, to warm the room so that it would be a pleasant temperature when the slumbering pair awoke. As an afterthought, he left that day's Daily Prophet on the end of the bed, along with the latest edition of the Potions Digest to which the Master subscribed. He looked once more upon the relaxed countenance of the usually severe wizard, and felt pride in his work, before apparating back to the kitchens and the rest of the house-elves.

\- xxx –

Hermione awoke first, the enticing smell of bacon and eggs infiltrating her dreams and making her stomach rumble. She lifted her head from Severus' chest to locate the source of the smell like a salivating Niffler, earning her a chuckle from the man himself.

"Hungry?" he rumbled, his voice thick with slumber.

" _So_ hungry." She admitted, hopping out of bed to nip to the bathroom.

When she returned, Severus had pulled the quilt across the bed and was sitting atop it, with a large tray filled with breakfast foods in front of him.

"Take your pick." He waved his hand over the tray, lifting the stasis charm, before heading to the bathroom himself. "Don't eat all the bacon," he warned, remembering her words to Weasley the previous weekend.

"I wouldn't dream of it," she smiled, sitting cross-legged on the bed and beginning to heap herself a plate full of scrambled eggs, toast and bacon which she balanced on one knee and ate with a fork.

After he'd finished in the bathroom, having fixed his greasy hair back with a band and checked he did not smell too unappetising, he was surprised with the amount of delight he felt in returning to his large bed that was full of Hermione and breakfast. The sense of pleasure in the _normalcy_ of it all was almost too much for his damaged heart to bear.

He carefully sat down on the bed and began to load his own plate. Despite not having the hawk eyes of Minerva McGonagall and Poppy Pomfrey upon him, he served himself a good helping of hot food, subconsciously following Hermione's lead; the witch had a plate stuffed to bursting with breakfast and was eating with gusto. Last night's _exercise_ had awoken his appetite, and he found it no hardship to eat enough bacon and eggs for two wizards. Sitting back against the dark wooden headboard with a cup of freshly-brewed coffee, black of course, he felt fuller than he had done in years, and he was not sure that was all due to the excess ingestion of food.

Hermione had finished and returned everything to the tray; she reached for her wand and banished it to the kitchens, as they had been taught to do from their First Year with used cups and plates from the Gryffindor common room.

She reached for the small pile of newspapers that had been left on the foot of the bed.

"Daily Prophet, or Potions Digest?" she held one in each hand, giving him the first choice.

"Digest, if you do not mind, I am hoping it will contain information that is pertinent to my current research."

She passed him the periodical and settled herself with the wizarding newspaper partly against the pillows, partly against Severus, tucking her legs under the green quilt and began to read.

Severus wasn't sure if this easy ambience was more of a shock than the eye-wateringly good lovemaking. Never in his life had he been in this position, casually reading in bed with a witch, the morning after the night before. Being a Slytherin, he was not one to pass up an opportunity, however unexpected it might be. He took his spectacles from the top drawer of his bedside cabinet, put them on the bridge of his long, hooked nose, and unfolded his new copy of that month's Potions Digest. He must remember to thank Fen later on.

After a few minutes companionable reading in silence, the only noise the occasional turn of a page, Hermione looked up at him from her position against his arm. He felt her looking at him, not saying a word, and eventually he moved his paper to one side and looked down at her.

"Yes?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow at her.

She smiled.

"You look awfully sexy in a pair of reading glasses, Severus."

She kissed his arm, just on his bare skin where the short sleeve of his tshirt ended, and returned to her reading of the newspaper, leaving him once again, lost for words.

\- xxx -

An hour or so later, Severus folded his Digest and placed it upon the bedside table with his spectacles on top. Surprised at his own daring, he rolled over to face Hermione and slid his long arm under the duvet and across her belly, seeking out warm, bare skin under her vest. She looked out from behind the newspaper.

"Yes?" she enquired, lightly mocking his earlier question.

"I am thinking that I need to wash, and was wondering if I could persuade you to join me?" He rubbed her belly, swiftly sliding his hand up her vest to palm a soft breast, gently squeezing it.

"Hmm, maybe you could. I think I may need more persuasion than that, though."

"Wench," he growled at her, darkly, tweaking her nipple and pushing her vest up so he could capture the peak nearest to him in his mouth. He closed his lips over her breast, taking in as much of her nipple and the surrounding area as he could before suckling deeply, sighing in pleasure at the feel of her gorgeous teat in his hungry mouth.

He moved closer to her and ground his erection against her side of her hip, already his traitorous prick was registering its interest, despite having had more sex in the last few hours than the entire previous year. What made it even more arousing is that she didn't seem to mind him frotting against her.

"Is that enough persuasion? Have I convinced you?" he hissed directly into her ear, tickling the shell deliciously.

She pretended to think about it. "I don't know," she teased. "I don't really think I'm dirty enough for a shower yet."

He regarded her darkly. "I do not believe, Miss Granger; that you have any idea with whom you are toying."

"I don't? Then by all means, Sir, please show me." Her stomach twisted in nervous anticipation and burgeoning arousal at his dominance. She loved it, no denying that.

With a groan that sounded like he was going into battle, he ripped the quilt from them and tossed it to the end of the bed. Grabbing hold of the waistband of her shorts, he pulled them roughly down her legs and over her feet, throwing them to the floor. Crawling down the bed he insinuated himself between her knees and pushed her thighs apart, exposing her glistening pussy fully to his view. _Holy fuck,_ he nearly came right there and then at the sight of her lush pinkness laid open for his delectation.

"Oh, my little witch, I am going to feast upon you until you scream my name. I cannot wait to stick my tongue inside you and lick all your most secret places." He bowed forward and inched his head towards her, squeezing her thighs, pushing them as further apart.

Hermione thought she might come before he even touched his mouth to her. His actions and his words were driving her over the edge with very little physical contact. Neither Ronald nor Viktor had ever put their mouth _down there_ , and she was bursting with expectation and desire. Spending so much time with boys, she heard many an ill-informed conversation about how performing oral sex on a witch was distasteful or unpleasant, something to be borne in order to procure yourself a reciprocal blow job. Severus seemed to be salivating at the mouth in anticipation of the task ahead. She couldn't deny that his enthusiasm was heightening her already fever-pitch excitement.

The first touch of his sharp tongue on her folds was better than any fantasy she might have conjured up for herself, and she made sure he knew it by letting out an involuntary scream. He smirked up at her from his position between her thighs, a deadly smile that made her want to squash her whole pussy against his face and force him to lick her into oblivion.

"First time?" he drawled, touching the tip of his tongue to her labia and chuckling when she jerked in pleasure.

"Fuck, _yes_ ," she panted, desperate for him to continue.

"Tut, tut. What a waste of pussy. I shall address that immediately, Granger."

He moved his hands swiftly up her thighs and used his thumbs to spread open her outer labia. As he heard her gasp he dove into her wetness, alternating between long slow licks from top to bottom, and gentle sucking kisses. Hermione had never felt such an intense sensation, she felt that every synapse in her body was pinging like a taut elastic band. My goodness if this was oral sex she wanted more, more, _more_. She reached down and tangled a small hand in his long hair, eliciting a growl from the dark Potions professor between her thighs.

"More, Hermione?" he mumbled as he feasted upon her.

"More. Please more. _Bloody hell_."

"My pleasure."

He snaked his rapier tongue up under the hood that concealed her clitoris, teasing the sensitive little bud out of hiding. She clenched her fist harder in his hair as he lightly sucked on her newly exposed clit, building up a relentless rhythm that threatened to throw her over the cliff sooner rather than later.

She felt her muscles begin to clench, and her stomach began to undulate as her orgasm drew closer, but Severus was far too skilled to allow her first experience of cunnilingus to be over so soon, and he moved away from her throbbing clit and down towards her vaginal entrance, thrusting his tongue inside as if he were fucking her with his mouth.

"Fuck me, you taste delicious, little witch. I want to drink you down; I want everything you can give me." His words, rumbling deeply, only increased her fervent arousal.

"Severus," she gasped, "I don't ... I don't think I can hold on. I have to come ... I need ..."

He swept back up to the top of her pussy and clamped down hard over as much of her labial area as he could, flickering his tongue all over her most sensitive and aroused flesh. As she began to squeak and pant, and her hips bucked so hard he had to anchor her to the bed, he concentrated every attention upon her clitoris, sucking it between lips and tormenting the tip with his tongue, agitating the surface until she had no choice but to explode in orgasm, flooding his face with her hot fluid, her stomach heaving with the effort.

"Severus!" She screamed. " _Fucking hell!_ Oh fuck, oh fuck ... yesss."

He watched her face, contorted with the effort of being hauled over the edge of her climax before opening her eyes and mouth in an eruption of bliss, screaming his name, completely wild and without abandon. The thought that he had caused all of it was just too much of a fucking turn-on, it hit his cock like a freight train and he could do nothing but come in his trousers like a young boy.

"Fuck!" he shouted as he ejaculated, "What the _fuck_?!" he groaned loud, up on his knees and thrusting his hips helplessly like a rutting animal as he spurted hot semen into his grey transfigured lounge pants. He dropped his head and attempted to breathe gulps of air into his compressed lungs.

After regaining their power of speech it was Hermione who spoke first.

"Well. I should think I am certainly dirty enough for that shower now."

He huffed out a deep chuckle.

"You are not the only one. I have just come in my trousers like a teenager in the face of your _rampant enthusiasm_." He lifted his head and raised a cross eyebrow at her.

"Are you complaining?" she smiled, reaching to rake a hand through his hair which had mostly escaped the band tying it back from his face.

"Certainly not. I will be better prepared in future."

"Does that mean I might be able to persuade you to do that to me again sometime?"

"Witch, less of the persuasion, you will not be able to keep my mouth away from your lush little pussy. I think it may be my new favourite meal."

"Not many nutritious calories I should think," she quipped, before scooting out from underneath him and getting off the bed. "Now, it must be time for that shower?"

He rose up on his knees, shooting a quick Tergeo to the mess in his trousers, he had no desire to tiptoe across to the bathroom with spunk dripping down his legs. He took Hermione's hand and led her to the bathroom, setting the shower to run and stripping off his pyjamas, banishing them to the laundry for washing.

"Do you want me to send your sleepwear to the laundry?" he asked her.

"No, that's fine; I have a second pair with me. I'm not sure I want my smalls being found trespassing in the Hogwarts laundry," she grinned.

"As you wish." He gestured towards the shower, allowing her to walk ahead of him. She let out a blissful murmur as she stepped under the flow of warm water falling from the large, central shower head.

He joined her, enjoying the feel of the fat plops of water on his body. She slid her arms around his neck, pulling him close against her so that his soft penis rested against the curve of her belly. He encircled her with his strong arms, running his hands up and down her wet back as the water cascaded down upon them. It was exquisitely sensual and peaceful and they stood there for a long time in each other's arms.

At length, she reached for the shampoo bottle on the small stone shelf, and squirted some of the herbal liquid into her hand. It smelled reassuringly of _Severus_ , and from the plain bottle she presumed he must have mixed it himself.

"Move your head out of the direct water spray," she instructed him softly, "I believe I promised to wash your hair for you."

"I was hoping you would," he admitted, "I have not had the pleasure before."

"Not ever?"

"I should imagine my hair was shampooed by my mother as a small boy, but I cannot remember. Certainly it has not happened to me as an adult."

She divided the shampoo between her hands and began to massage it into his scalp, making little circles with her fingers, and paying particular attention to where dirt and grease had been allowed to build up. Pulling his head under the water to rinse, she then surprised him by squeezing out the excess water and beginning the process again.

Seeing his confusion, she explained;

"If your hair is prone to oiliness it is best to shampoo twice, to make sure you get rid of as much dirt as possible."

He nodded in reply but did not answer. Hermione wondered if he was embarrassed by the unkempt state of his hair. It didn't bother her how Severus looked, she fancied him in any state, but she was sure he would feel more confident with visibly cleaner hair.

As she rinsed off the suds for the second time, he leaned in to capture her lips with his, kissing her under the flow of the water. She opened her mouth to receive his searching tongue as the fat drops cascaded down upon them. They snogged open-mouthed until Hermione felt his cock begin to harden against her, and she was struck with an idea.

He had given her such mind-numbing oral pleasure earlier, and she wanted to reciprocate, but was unsure where to start. Where better than in the shower, where the water would wash away the mess, and she could immediately rinse her mouth if needed?

She ended the kiss and began to slide down his body, sinking to her knees in front of him and reaching round to squeeze the cheeks of his arse, moving the tip of his rapidly swelling cock to her mouth. She kissed the very tip, and opening her lips to take him inside her mouth.

She looked up, expecting to see Severus looking down at her in pleasure, and instead she saw his face contorted with agony, his body begin to shake with what seemed like a mini convulsion. She jerked her head back as he grabbed her upper arms and yanked her roughly to her feet.

"Never, Hermione." He growled, angrily, "Never get on your knees before me."

He was shaking from head to foot as he held her at arm's length.

What on earth was the matter?


	15. Chapter 15

**A warning: this story is dark and ugly at times and this is one of those chapters, so please proceed with caution. If you are triggered by graphic descriptions of sexual assault and/or violence, this is NOT the story for you. (My other fic, A Fine Life, is much more gentle if you need something less intense)**

 **I'm not going to post a warning on every chapter that might cause distress, because part of the aim of this story is for the reader to share in Hermione's discovery of how much Severus has suffered, exactly how much was asked of him, and what a long, daunting process it is going to be to heal him.**

 **He is an exceptionally powerful wizard, he was not going to be brought down by Voldmort being a bit mean. The man was pushed to the very limits of his endurance to fulfil his mission from Dumbledore and I intend to explore that through this story, weaving it around their growing regard for one another. (Well that's the plan, anyway)**

 **I can't be more explicitly clear than this, so read on at your own risk, you know your own tolerance level. Definitely adults only. Teens - I have daughters the same age as you, and I'd be upset if they were reading this. You know your parents would be too. That's all I can say.**

 **Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited and followed so far. You blow me away. xx**

 **Chapter 15**

Severus roughly pushed his hair away from his face, spattering water up the stone walls of the shower.

"I apologise," he said, gruffly, "please, take as long as you require to finish your shower."

With that, he moved Hermione gently to one side so that he could exit the cubicle. Summoning a towel from the rack, he wrapped it around his hips and left the bathroom for the bedchamber, leaving Hermione alone under the cascade of water, wondering what on earth had just happened.

Rather than react impulsively and leap out of the shower after him, demanding he explain himself, she decided to leave him alone for a little while to calm down and order his thoughts. He had promised to tell her everything about his past, and clearly what had just occurred had brought back a disturbing memory of some sort. She had no doubt that he was currently pacing about his chambers, not only ridden with self-loathing and a nightmare of a memory that had just leapt into his mind, but also castigating himself for his behaviour towards her.

She reached for the shampoo and began to lather a generous amount of the herbal concoction into her own hair, luxuriating in the delicious herbal smell of the freshly-brewed liquid. She couldn't imagine what would have disturbed Severus about a witch kneeling on her knees before him ready to administer a blowjob, but it must have been something highly unpleasant and she shuddered, her mind racing with all the possibilities but accepting it was most likely some kind of sexual humiliation or abuse. But at whose hands?

Locating a bottle of conditioner lurking at the back of the shelf, obviously he didn't use _that_ very often; she smoothed the calming balm into her wild curls and left it in there to work its magic while she applied the zesty lemon shower soap, which appeared to be the regular Hogwarts-issue that was placed in the bathrooms of Gryffindor tower. The door between the bathroom and the bedchamber had been left half-open, but she could not see Severus from her vantage point in the shower cubicle.

Stepping carefully out of the shower and wrapping herself in a huge, dark green bath sheet and adding a smaller towel to her head, tied turban-style, she cleaned her teeth at the high basin before entering the bedchamber. It was empty and the door that led to the sitting room was firmly closed. Deciding to give him a little more time to come to her before resorting to going to him, she dressed in a comfy pair of jeans and a Gryffindor Quidditch tshirt that she had probably stolen from Harry or Ron years ago, adding another pair of fluffy socks because the stone floor in the dungeons was seriously cold and a little damp to her bare feet.

Using her self-devised detangling and drying spell on her hair, that had really been a must to maintain any sort of control over her thicket, she left it hanging loose and taking a deep breath, opened the door to the sitting room.

Severus was sitting on the sofa, in much the same position as she had inadvertently found him self-harming the week before. His hair was hanging lank and wet, and he had dressed himself in his usual white shirt and black trousers, but his feet were bare, and Hermione wondered if he had just become impervious to the cold floor having lived in these dank dungeons for so long. She moved closer towards him, making sure to make some noise so that he would not think she was trying to silently sneak up on him.

As she approached, she could see that he had his bare left forearm extended in front of him, studying his dark mark, which had fresh scratches upon it, not cuts exactly, but he must have just clawed at himself in anger, upset or frustration.

She placed one hand on his shoulder to advise him of her proximity and he immediately stiffened under her palm. Removing it, she aimed the detangling and drying spell she had just used on her own hair towards his own; keeping the pressure gentle and raking her hands along his scalp, knowing he liked the sensation, as she dried and combed his soaking hair.

She watched the wet raven strands dry and smooth under her ministrations, and by the time she had finished his hair shone with cleanliness in a way she had never seen it. She leaned forward and planted a kiss on the top of his head, inhaling the delicious smell and enjoying the feel of his soft hair against her lips. She heard him exhale in pleasure, so decided to push him a little and slid her arms forward around his shoulders until they met at the front, drawing him into a warm embrace and touching her cheek to his. He gave little resistance and she felt him lean into her, as if needing to share her heat and light.

"I am sorry." He said, after a time.

"You have nothing to apologise for. You have been dreadfully damaged, and I am sure this will happen many times. All I ask is that you keep me close, keep trusting me."

"You could never be close enough to satisfy me, Hermione."

She let go of his neck and moved around to the front of the sofa, moving his arms out of his lap so she could straddle him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, hugging him tightly against her.

"Is that close enough?"

"It will suffice for now."

She could hear the slight smirk in his voice that he was trying to hide, and felt his strong arms slither around her back, tighter and tighter until she thought she may burst.

"Breathe, Severus, I need to breathe!" She squeaked, and he relaxed his grip, leaning back into the sofa so that he could see her face.

"You are extraordinary, Hermione Granger. I have little doubt that most witches in your position would have run for the hills by now."

"I'm not most witches, as I think you know."

"I have known that for many a year, since you first walked into my classroom with your hand in the air and your frizzy head stuffed with knowledge you could not wait to impart."

"Really? I thought I was an insufferable know it all?"

"Oh, you certainly were that, make no mistake. But you also had a logician's mind, a razor-sharp intellect, and a subtlety to your magic that made you exceptional."

She smiled at the praise, unable to stop a schoolgirl blush at the unbidden and unexpected compliments.

"Of course, over the last week I have also noted ... _other talents_ ... of yours." He smirked, but in a slightly sheepish and embarrassed manner, and Hermione was certain there was a flush of pink in his ghostly-white cheeks.

"Only the last week?" she asked, cheekily.

Now he _definitely_ blushed, and paused a long while before answering.

"I must confess that your ministrations to my person on your final day of term when you believed me to be asleep left me with a rather inconvenient erection that I was heartily glad remained concealed beneath my teaching robes."

She grinned widely.

"Stop looking so pleased with yourself."

"I'd been obsessed with you all term, you know." She admitted, and Severus could not stop a ridiculous grin creeping to the corners of his mouth.

"Why, Miss Granger," he drawled, and his deep voice rumbled straight to her core, "how very unexpected. I suppose I should be glad I did not know this whilst you were my students. I would have been wanking to thoughts of you each night in these very chambers."

"Professor, that is very inappropriate," she smirked, drawing her lips close to his. He closed the distance and began to lightly kiss her mouth, his tongue gently requesting entrance as she tangled her hands in his hair.

They snogged for a while, tongues rolling delightfully together while Hermione sat astride him on the old grey sofa, but it did not lead to more. Both of them knew they had an elephant in the room to discuss.

When they pulled apart, Severus' expression was resigned and serious.

"Thank you. Thank you for giving me a chance. I know that I must explain for my actions in the shower, and although it terrifies me to do so, I find myself _wanting_ to tell you. You will need to be brave, Hermione, and I know that bravery is something you possess in great abundance."

He reached out and cupped her face with his cool hand, rubbing his thumb along her cheek in a most unusually tender gesture, for him.

"You must understand, I have never asked for help from anyone in my life. I am not a nice man, Hermione. I have spent my life making enemies. I have done unspeakable things. I have no friends or family to speak of; no one who would mourn my passing." He spoke regretfully, his deep voice full of sadness, which she wasn't sure he was aware of.

"I would," she replied, softly. "I would be devastated if you were not here."

"Then you are my lifeline, and a better man would not allow you to be so. But I have sunk to the very lowest depths to which it is possible for a wizard to sink, and I am unwilling to refuse the chance you are offering me. A chance at life. The possibility of a different existence to one I am trapped in."

She placed both her palms against his chest, feeling the quick beat of his heart betraying his anxiety. She wondered if he had ever spoken with such candour before, and felt sure he had not.

"Being with me will cost you dearly, Hermione. I doubt you have even begun to ponder the ramifications of our relationship." His eyes flashed cold, but desperate.

"I don't care," she shot back, immediately, jutting out her chin and daring him to contradict her.

He regarded her, curiously, and for a long while not another word passed between them.

"Then, so be it." He announced, and drew his wand.

He moved Hermione from his lap and sat her next to him on the sofa, then summoned his pensieve from the solid wooden sideboard where it was stored, out of harm's way and secured from prying eyes. He levitated it across the room, and set it to float directly in front of them, just below eye-level at a perfect height for them to lean forward and stick their heads into the swirling mist. Both of them eyed the dish with trepidation of the task before them. Severus spoke first.

"Since we discussed the use of the pensieve, I have been having a number of thoughts about how this process should be handled. My first idea was to take you through my life chronologically, but I now feel that it would be more prudent to take you into memories that are pertinent when a situation such as the one we have just experienced, occurs."

He reached for her hand, and squeezed it.

"Remember, nothing you will see can hurt you, although everything will seem very real. This is but a memory, we cannot be seen, and nothing we do will alter it. My only fear is that once you have seen the worst of me, I shall lose you forever."

He turned his head and looked down at her, the sadness prevalent in his eyes and his defeated demeanour making her want to weep. She had to be completely honest in her response.

"I can make you no promises, Severus. I would not be as trite as to say nothing will bother me. But I will say this, I will use what you show me to understand to you better, and hopefully to help you."

"That is as much as I can ask for. Already you are receiving the lesser end of the deal out of our current situation. Already I have asked too much of you, I will not ask for more."

She leaned against his shoulder, and he let his head fall sideways on top of her warm curls.

Taking a deep breath, he began.

"My behaviour in the shower tonight was caused by an intensely painful flashback of a favourite humiliation of the Dark Lord. You are aware, that I returned to the ranks of the death eaters on Dumbledore's orders, following the reincarnation of Tom Riddle during the final task of the Tri-Wizard tournament?"

She nodded her head in understanding.

"Before the Dark Lord's demise, before he murdered the Potters, death eater revels were fulsome and plentiful. Many of these involved the torture, both sexual and physical, of muggles, and witches or wizards whom Voldemort considered a traitor or a danger. I have no doubt we will return to discuss these revels in details, but today I am attempting to explain how it affected me to have you fall to your knees before me.

When the Dark Lord returned to power, he had a body, as you witnessed, but it was insubstantial, not fully-corporeal. He was missing his nose beyond the snake slits that took its place, as everyone knows, but he was also devoid of any body hair, including eyelashes and eyebrows, no longer had any form of genitals, and the only orifices he possessed were the ones on his head. In short, he was unable to participate in the revels as he once had. This made him even more controlling than before, even more desperate for carnal pleasure, and was satiated vicariously through others. His deviancy knew no bounds.

Lean your head into the pensieve. With me. We shall go together."

\- xxx –

Hermione landed into the pensieve memory, and with an immediate squeak of fear, she launched herself into Severus' arms. She knew exactly where they were. She had been tortured in this very place herself, at the hands of the insane Bellatrix Lestrange.

They were in the main ballroom of Malfoy Manor, amid scores of jeering death eaters, and the snake-faced Voldemort pacing back and forth upon a large dais in front of what looked like a wooden throne, raised above the rest of the throng. She searched for Severus, and found him, trying to blend into the background, with his famously neutral face held straight and unreadable.

"Loyal followers!" Voldemort addressed his death eaters, who instantly quieted down. "This is our first revel since my glorious return to power!" He paused, and the gap was immediately filled by the required applause.

"A return that was much delayed by the actions of my supposedly loyal death eaters." His expression changed to one of disappointment, and Hermione could feel a ripple of dread skate around the gathered crowd. He continued to pace up and down.

"Where were you all? Where were you when I languished in Albania, barely more than alive? Sssaving your own skinsss, that is what you were doing," he hissed, malevolently.

"Your punishment for your lack of loyalty will be my pleasure. And it will also become your pleasure, eventually, for Lord Voldemort is nothing if not merciful."

"Rosier!" His crackled voice carried across the ballroom.

Evan Rosier looked up, terrified. "Yes, my Lord?"

"Bring me your daughter, Rosier."

A tall girl with long black hair let out a scream as her father grabbed her wrist and dragged her forcibly towards the Voldemort, although she did not struggle.

"She is a virgin, Rosssier?" Voldemort licked around his mouth, upon what passed for his lips.

"She is, my Lord, and committed to your service."

The girl stood there trembling. Severus leaned towards Hermione and whispered in her ear.

"Samantha Rosier. Only one year out of Hogwarts. Branded with the dark mark only a few days previously, at her father's request."

Hermione nodded, but could not take her eyes from the clearly terrified girl being held upright in front of the dais upon which Voldemort stood.

"A virgin," he repeated, running a long-nailed white finger across his mouth. "Severus, my faithful servant?" he called, summoning him from across the room to stand next to the dais.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Address the problem of this young girl's virginity, Severus. Right here."

"No!" Samantha screamed, trying to wrest herself free of her father's grip. "Not him!"

"My Lord, I must respectfully decline. This girl has only just left Hogwarts. She knows me only as her professor."

"Severussss. I am disappointed at your lack of gratitude at my generous offer. If you do not take advantage of your position at the school to bed as many students as you desire, then you are a fool. Now fuck this girl. Right here on the floor, in front of us all."

The memory-Severus hesitated just a fraction too long, and Voldemort was impatient.

"On your knees, girl. Get your professor in the mood to fuck you. His reticence displeases me. Mulciber, assist your brother."

Mulciber joined Rosier and grabbed Samantha's other arm, walking her over towards Severus. They forced her to kneel in front of him, holding her down with their hands on her shoulders. Hermione felt Severus tense up next to her, and she encircled his waist with her arms, pulling him near to her. She could feel the rapid, panicked beat of his heart.

Nobody moved. Voldemort was angry.

"This is becoming most tiresome. Wormtail!"

Peter Pettigrew scuttled over, bowing before the dais.

"Release Severus for Miss Rosier, Wormtail. He seems most reluctant to do so. Maybe once he has reminded himself of his taste for young flesh, he may take better advantage of his _opportunities_ at Hogwarts."

Pettigrew, with what seemed to be a large amount of relish, reached for Severus' crotch and unzipped his fly, dipping his rancid fingers into his shorts and drawing out his flaccid cock he exposed it to full view of the gathered crowd of death eaters, holding it up proudly, clutching his filthy fingernails around the shaft.

"Impressive, Severus!" crowed Alecto Carrow, wheezing with foul laughter. "I hope I'm next!" Memory-Severus held his face impassive.

Rosier and Mulciber forced Samantha's head towards Severus, and Wormtail held his soft cock at such an angle to enable it to be crammed into the disgusted girl's mouth. Between them, they manipulated both Severus and Samantha until he began to harden.

Hermione looked up at Severus and saw that his endless black eyes were full of tears as he watched the scene before him. He looked down at her.

"I had no choice." He told her. "I had no choice, Hermione."

She hugged him tighter, and felt his arms encircle her tightly.

"It gets worse." He whispered.

Samantha Rosier had been forced to suck on Severus' cock until it stood proud and erect, held in place by her father and Mulciber. Wormtail, despite his assistance no longer being required, had continued to hold the base of his cock, and was surreptitiously fondling his ballsack with the other hand. Memory-Severus looked like he was about to vomit.

"You refused my gift, Severusss. That is not wise, to refuse Lord Voldemort. I wished to reward you for your loyal service within the walls of Hogwarts."

"I apologise, my Lord." Severus bit out through clenched teeth, as if he was trying to hold on to his control whilst the mouth of his former student slid up and down his erect penis.

"Your apology is accepted, Severus. However I cannot allow you to partake of the gift I so generously offered. That honour will now go to her father, who obeyed my every command without question. That is what I require of my death eaters."

He turned towards the two men before Severus.

"Rosier! Rid your daughter of her virginity. Mulciber! Provide help to your brother, and hold up his daughter's skirts. Advise me if you need further ... assistance."

Mulciber pulled a screaming Samantha to the stone floor in front of the dais, holding her shoulders to the cold flagstones. Evan Rosier did not seem in any way disgusted by the task he had been given, on the contrary, he appeared to be positively salivating and his front of his trousers bulged. He yanked up his daughter's long skirts and threw them up to Mulciber, who caught hold of them, holding them out of the way. The girl wore no undergarments and was bared to the gathered crowd from the waist down.

Rosier released his own cock, hard and ready, and holding Samantha's thighs apart sank into her without mercy. The crowd jeered and clapped, which seemed to spur him faster.

Both the Severus in her arms and the Severus in the memory looked away in sheer disgust at the sight of the father defiling his daughter.

"And now, Severus," Voldemort continued, "although you have been denied your prize, you will see Lord Voldemort is merciful to those who are loyal to him, as you have been, my servant. So I shall still allow you your release. Wormtail will be only too happy to oblige."

Severus looked down at the grinning rat of a man crouched next to him, who was now running his revolting hand up and down his cock, wanking him, keeping him hard whilst Samantha was raped, to await the Dark Lord's next command.

"On your knees, Wormtail. On your knees before a servant who is so much more worthy than yourself. What you could learn from a man like Severus! I will grant you a boon and allow you to swallow his seed. Begin."

The filthy rodent knelt in front of Severus and took his large cock all the way into his mouth. Severus closed his eyes. Hermione wondered if he was trying to imagine something else other than the horror of what was actually happening.

"Open your eyes, Severusss," Voldemort hissed. "You would not want to miss the service your brother is providing for you, surely? He will not stop until you give him your essence. I command it." His mouth split with the foulest smile Hermione had ever seen.

Severus looked down at Pettigrew, bobbing up and down on his cock, with nothing but abhorrence in his eyes. He cast his eyes across at the scene before the dais; Rosier had called over another death eater, Walden Macnair, who was lapping at Samantha's clit with his grimy tongue whilst she was being fucked. Her moans of torment had now turned to unwanted pleasure as the unrelenting tongue continuously scraped against her most sensitive place, and she was soon forced her to orgasm around the cock of her father.

Straight after her climax, Severus shot his load into Wormtail's waiting mouth, and the rat swallowed it all down with pleasure. Severus looked up at Voldemort.

"You are excused, Severus. Return to Hogwarts."

Severus shoved his wet cock back into his trousers and walked with as much dignity as he could muster, out of the room.

Hermione and Severus followed him, and watched as he retched in the corridor, torrents of disgusted vomit falling from his mouth, heaving until he had nothing left to bring up.

"It is time to go." Severus said from behind her, and pulled her out of the pensieve.

\- xxx –

They were sitting back in the same position on the sofa in the living room. Severus stoked up the fire, and waited for Hermione to speak. The silence continued for a long while and he began to feel distinctly uncomfortable.

At length, she turned to face him, full bodily and crossing her legs on the sofa. She put one hand on his back and stroked him gently with her full palm, and with the other took hold of his shaking hand.

"You are right. That was dreadful. I understand what you saw, what you remembered, when I knelt before you. We will find another way. There is no rush, or hurry."

He opened his eyes wide.

"You are not disgusted by me? You do not feel revolted by what I did?"

"What you were forced to do, Severus. It was not your choice. And yes I am disgusted, disgusted by what I saw, by what Voldemort commanded you all to do, by that man's apparent delight in raping his daughter. That is what I am disgusted by. Certainly not by you, who did not have a choice."

"I feel intense guilt. I knew I would have to ejaculate, the Dark Lord would have demanded nothing less, but I knew I could not do it looking down at that foul rat. The only thing I could do was to watch Samantha and her father, try and pretend they were faceless people I did not know. When Macnair was sucking on her, forcing her to orgasm; that is what triggered mine. I am disgusted with myself."

"You did what you needed to do."

"I know, but ..."

"No buts. It was a terrible situation. You did what you had to. Enough."

She took her wand from her pocket and summoned the cushions and blankets they had used the previous evening, piling them into a most inviting heap in front of the fire, which was now roaring high, emanating light and heat into the room. She banished the pensieve back to its storage place, and stood up, pulling Severus to stand with her.

"Come and lay down with me. Let us just be quiet, and hold each other. I don't know if that's the right way to proceed, but let's try it."

She pulled him down to kneeling on the nest of blankets and cushions, and together they slid to a prone position. She snuggled into his chest, and was happy to feel his arms close around her. Their feet intertwined, and he pulled a particularly soft cream chenille blanket across them.

"You really need to get some warm socks, Severus. Your feet are freezing."

And with that one sentence, it appeared normalcy had been restored.

He was beginning to _love_ normalcy.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

She reached up and toyed with a lock of his black hair, so unusually clean and shiny.

"Are you alright?" she asked him, twisting the strands around her finger gently, and giving him a look of concern as they lay on their sides facing each other, cocooned in the pile of blankets and cushions before the fire.

"I would have said I am unchanged, since I have already endured what you have just viewed in the pensieve. However, I find myself feeling curiously relieved, not just with your quiet understanding, but to have been able to share something so deeply degrading, for which I carry immense guilt, and to feel acceptance, not judgement as I always fear. I feel a ... _calmness_ ... that is wholly unusual, but rather pleasant."

She pushed his hair back so she could see all of his face. As if from years of habit, he made to shy away from the gesture, as if he was embarrassed to have his features bared before her. Not for the first time, she wondered what this man had suffered to leave him so emotionally constipated. She supposed she had only had a small taste of the answer that was to come, in the pensieve.

"That is good, Severus. I think that is a good start."

"The voice at the back of my mind berates that you must be disgusted with me."

"We just talked about that. I _am_ disgusted, but in _no way_ is that disgust aimed at you."

He pulled her towards him and kissed her tenderly on the lips, allowing himself to linger there before pulling away.

"You are astonishing."

He folded her into his arms, and for a very long while the two of them lay in companionable silence on the floor of the dungeon chambers, both enjoying the simple act of closeness. The cold dampness of the air could not reach them in the envelope of the many blankets, nor penetrate the warmth of the body heat that they were sharing. Every so often, one of them would circle a finger absent-mindedly on the back or arm of the other, or plant a quick kiss on the body part nearest to them.

The odd peck soon became a lasting kiss, as both of them were reluctant to move their lips far away from each other for too long. Hermione _mmm'd_ as Severus sealed his mouth over hers, using his tongue to open her lips and swipe deeply around, enjoying the soft moans his attentions were eliciting.

He pushed up on his elbow so his face was above hers, and she allowed him to assume the slightly dominant position, figuring that she now understood a little better his need to assert himself, to be in control of what did or did not happen to his body. She thought, rather wickedly, that it was also lucky she found it quite a turn-on to have him physically take charge the way he did. She found it infinitely preferable to her previous clumsy fumblings with teenage boys.

She supposed that since she insisted on being in control of every aspect of her life, and many of Harry and Ron's too, (they would never have passed their exams without her revision and homework timetables) whilst being correct and conscientious, reliable and diligent, that it would be quite logical to want to let go sexually. She certainly wasn't going to lose any sleep over whether it was or was not entirely politically correct to enjoy a wizard taking the lead in bed. Or on the floor, she smirked to herself.

She stopped smirking once she realised that Severus had stopped kissing her.

"Hermione, as much as I am enjoying kissing you, it is proving quite distracting to keep up with your over-analytical train of thought." He shifted a little and looked down at her with amusement in his eyes and a slight crook to one side of his mouth.

She blushed.

"Noisy thoughts again?"

"I think it was the rapidity this time rather than the volume, the speed in which your mind flips from one conclusion to the other. I am clearly not distracting you sufficiently."

"I'm sorry."

"Do not be sorry. But might I add your feelings regarding surrendering control to me, are _completely welcome_." He gave her a wolfish smile that was incredibly sexy.

"Ah, now I didn't think about surrendering _complete_ control."

"Just a little will suffice, I am sure. Although, Hermione?"

"Yes, Severus?"

"Should your thoughts stray to Potter and Weasley again whilst I am kissing you, please advise me so that I may cease my efforts forthwith."

They both laughed. Severus' was more of a quick bark than an actual laugh; but it was so nice to see him genuinely smile.

"I believe we have reached a natural pause. Can I interest you in supper?" he sat up in their makeshift nest, cross-legged with his elbows on his knees.

Hermione smiled and nodded vigorously. "Oh definitely. Yes please, I'm starving." Goodness knows how many hours ago they had eaten their breakfast-cum-lunch, but she was certainly ready for dinner.

Severus summoned Fen, and after thanking the helpful house-elf for his kind thoughtfulness in leaving them breakfast and especially the newspapers, Fen advised them that the school meal that evening had been steak and kidney pies with trimmings, followed by blackcurrant crumble and custard.

Severus ordered two of everything, and it did not take long for Fen to return from the kitchens with their dinner, snapping his fingers to set the small table with cutlery, napkins and candles, before producing a bottle of red wine and two goblets from under his smock with a conspiratorial wink and setting them on the table with a flourish.

"Fen, you are excellent. This is absolutely perfect, thank you. I am most pleased with you." Severus spoke to the elf warmly and sincerely, Hermione was pleased to note, and added her own thanks alongside his.

"Sir is too kind. Fen is honoured to serve the Master of Potions, and the Master of Potions' special guest. Fen hopes that the special guest will be pleased with Fen, and that she will want to come again to stay with the Master of Potions." Fen babbled, before cracking out of the room.

Severus stood up, and extended his hand to Hermione to help her up. He led her to the table with his hand on the small of her back, before pulling out a chair for her, and she took pleasure from his subtle gestures, small courtesies that demonstrated his regard for her.

The meal looked excellent, and the huge slices of pie with rich gravy spilling out of them onto to the mashed potatoes, long stalks of fresh asparagus and a pile of minted sugar-snap peas made his stomach rumble in appreciation. He looked down in surprise, unused to his body showing enthusiasm towards the quality of his nourishment.

Fen had already opened the bottle of wine to breathe the burgundy liquid, and Severus picked up the bottle, noting it to be one of the excellent and highly potent elf-made wines that were ageing in the Hogwarts cellar, not the piss they served up at the head table. No wonder Fen had concealed it under his smock; the devious little elf had most likely smuggled it out. He poured them both a goblet-full, sending silent thanks to the elf's resourcefulness. He raised his glass to clink with hers.

"Thank you, Hermione. Just, thank you." He took a deep sip and the full-bodied red wine burned his throat in the most succulent way.

"You are welcome. And for the record, there is nowhere else I would rather be this weekend, or anyone else I would rather be with."

He regarded her, not in suspicion, but in wonder, well-concealed, of course.

"This is almost like we are out for dinner, Severus," she smiled. "There are a distinct lack of other patrons and waiting staff; and we won't have a bill at the end of the evening, but I hope that someday we can sit proudly in a restaurant together, enjoying a meal and wine not dissimilar to this."

"I should be proud to escort you. However, I am not sure if you ..."

She held up her hand to cut him off.

"I know exactly what you are going to say, despite not being a Master Legilimens. You are about to spout some ridiculous theory that I would not want to be see with you, or other such cobblers."

He raised his eyebrow at her, slowly; of course she had been exactly right. He filled the awkward silence by taking a big mouthful of the excellent steak and kidney pie and chewing thoughtfully, waiting for her to continue and to justify her point.

"I'm just a little nineteen-year-old, Severus. I'm inexperienced." She spoke with a devilish sparkle in her eyes, leaving him in no doubt as to the manner in which her apparently innocent words should be interpreted.

"You cannot be expecting me to spend all my time pandering to your ego, telling you how much I like you. I am here, concealed from the world with only you, I gladly and _with pleasure_ gave you my virginity, and have spent most of the last twenty-four hours within millimetres of your body. If that doesn't say – _I want you,_ I'm not sure what does."

She picked up an exceptionally long piece of asparagus and bit into it with a crunch, eyeballing him and daring him to respond.

"I cannot argue with your logic, however unbelievable it sounds."

"Unbelievable in a _good_ way, Severus," she corrected, waving around the green asparagus like a pointer for emphasis.

"I would not dare to argue with you, little witch. I look forward to dining with you at a restaurant of your choice. Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, central London or even that small goblin-run brasserie in the Ministry atrium, I shall be happy just to be with you and shall not think at all about unfathomably _lucky_ I am." He picked up his goblet, just as she did the same. Both took a large mouthful of the delicious elf-made wine, as tempting as nectar.

\- xxx –

The following morning, Severus woke up blinking into the bright light, his head thumping as if it were at the epicentre of a herd of charging hippogriffs, and his tongue dry and parched. He rolled his head to the right, keeping it on the pillow, and it hurt his eyeballs to do so, they were rattling around in his head like ball-bearings.

Hermione was far away from him on the other side of the bed, fast asleep with her mouth open and still dressed in that sodding Gryffindor Quidditch tshirt and the jeans she had been wearing last night. A quick pat-down of his own attire suggested he was also still clad in his shirt and trousers from the previous evening.

Sod it. Had they actually just wasted their precious evening by getting drunk on highly-potent elf-made wine and passed out? Hermione had been the one to suggest she didn't want to waste time this weekend by sleeping. She was not going to be a happy witch when she woke up, although with the hangover he could feel brewing, he suspected that being a bit pissed off was going to be the least of her problems.

He summoned two vials of single-dose hangover potion from his bathroom cabinet; that was a very wise potion to keep in stock, downed one, and placed the one on his bedside table, ready for Hermione when she woke.

Conjuring two glasses and using _Aguamenti_ to fill them with fresh cold water, he also knocked back one of those, again settling the second ready for Hermione. Precautionary measures taken, he lay back on the pillow and closed his eyes again, waiting for the potion to have its desired effect. A short time later, he had not returned to full sleep, and felt Hermione begin to stir next to him.

Rubbing her hands across her face, the room blearily came into focus. Severus was sitting cross-legged on the bed next to her, with a glass of water in one hand and a potion vial in the other. She tried to sit up, and the reason for her disorientation smacked her firmly between the eyes, and she groaned.

"What on earth happened?" she mumbled, groggily.

"I believe the high alcohol content of the elf-made wine happened." He told her, sardonically.

"I suggest you drink this hangover potion as quickly as possible." He uncorked the vial and pushed it into her grasp.

She sat up enough to down the foul-tasting liquid, and he gave her the water to drink before she lay down again. They both resumed their position on the pillows, and Severus summoned the quilt to cover them, reaching for Hermione's hand underneath. Neither spoke for a little while, waiting for the blissful relief that the potion would shortly bring.

Within half an hour, both were feeling much better, if not particularly well-rested. Hermione looked up at the dark green brocade canopy of the four-poster, brooding with an undisguised snit at what she perceived as _wasted time_ that was amusing Severus no end.

He rolled to his right so that he was facing her, sneaking his hand across to palm a breast through that godforsaken red tshirt, and kissed her shoulder.

"I am unsure what you mean by wasting time," he teased, seeking her nipple and attempting to tweak it into a point through her clothing. "We clearly had an excellent dinner and drank ourselves into a pleasant stupor."

"That is not the point, Severus, and you know it. I have to go home this afternoon, our weekend is nearly over, and we wasted hours! Sleeping!"

He thought she looked incredibly sexy when riled, particularly as the _reason_ she was riled was that she had missed a night of lovemaking with _him_.

"And what, may I ask; would you have had us doing instead? Hmm?" He lowered his head and kissed her other breast, the one nearest to him that was not receiving attention from his hand.

"You know very well _what_." Her eyes flashed at him.

"I most certainly do not. You shall have to tell me. And I would not take too long, witch; for if you delay you will simply be wasting more time."

"Do the spell," she breathed, craning her neck up to kiss his mouth.

"What spell would that be?" he asked, innocently, lightly returning her kiss.

"Well, if you'd rather wait for me to get up, search for my wand, then come back here and cast the disrobing spell, then you can. Personally Severus, I'd prefer your instant method, but oh well ..."

She neatly teased him right back, and moved to get out of the bed. He growled and anchored her to the mattress, performing his wandless, non-verbal _Divesto_ with his usual understated competence, leaving them both completely naked under the heavy green quilt.

Hermione turned to face him and pulled his head towards her; pressing her lips hard to his and encouraging him to open his mouth and admit her tongue to writhe and tussle with his own like a frantic snake. Whilst they snogged, she shuffled her hips across the bed towards him, pressing her naked mound against his growing erection, which he ground against her, letting sounds of intense sexual pleasure erupt into her mouth.

He ran his hands over her smooth back, arousing every inch of her skin with his touch. She clutched him around the back of his head, gathering up handfuls of silky black hair in her fists, pulling his head ever closer, as if she wanted to devour him whole.

"Fucking hell, Hermione," he breathed, through their kisses. "It is less than twenty-four hours since I was last inside of you and yet it is all I can think about."

"Oh, Severus, _please_. Please just come inside me." She rolled onto her back, trying to pull his larger and heavier frame on top of her.

"Believe me, I will. I would deny you nothing." He climbed atop her, marvelling at how well their bodies fitted together. She opened her thighs and wrapped her legs around his hips as if trying to push him inside her.

"You have absolutely no patience." He teased, rubbing his hard cock against her folds, which were hot and damp.

"You noticed? It is a terrible character flaw, I'm afraid." She lifted her hips, nudging his penis and trying to increase the friction between them.

"When it is my cock you are impatient for, little witch, I find myself hard pushed to complain."

He kissed her soundly on the lips before continuing. The large head of his prick found her wet entrance and pushed just the bulbous tip inside.

"Now, is _this_ what you want?"

" _Oh_ , Merlin. Oh fuck yes. More, _please,_ more."

He teased them both by agitating just the tip inside her, back and forth, stoking her flame higher and building a churning pool of desire in his own groin. Her small hands were on his upper arms, rubbing up and down, squeezing his muscles and stroking his sinews as they rippled with the effort of holding himself taut above her. It was driving him insane and they were both flushed with red stains upon their faces and chests.

Hermione tried to lift and circle her hips to persuade him to push the rest of his large cock inside her, to fill her to the hilt just where she wanted him.

" _Patience,_ Miss Granger," he hissed through gritted teeth, determined to tease her to her limit, taking immense pleasure from watching her writhe under him, desperate for his prick, which was just as hungry for her.

She tried another tactic.

"Why, Professor Snape," she exclaimed, innocently, "Who would have ever thought _you_ were a tease? I wonder what I would have to do in order to feel you deep inside me?"

 _Fuck._ She had him.

He felt his cock lurch forward, unbidden, and thrust hard inside her.

She screamed in pleasure, and he answered with an animal groan as he quickly pulled out almost all the way, before ramming home again.

"Again," she urged, sliding her hands down to his arse and clutching his cheeks in her hands, trying to pull him deeper inside.

"Anything," he hissed, "absolutely _any-fucking-thing_ you desire, Hermione." He drew back to his full length, before thrusting in again, making her eyes roll back into her head. "I am fucking _lost_ to you, witch, do you hear me? I am completely yours."

He moved up her body, beginning to piston his hips in a furious rhythm, catching her clit with every thrust, the swollen head of his cock irritating her g-spot inside in the most heavenly manner, poking her nearer and nearer to the edge of her precipice.

"If you are mine," she panted, "I promise to always take care of you."

Whatever he had expected her to say in response, it was not that. Her reply was not overtly sexual, but a simple declaration of something he had never had in his entire, wretched life.

 _Care_.

He drilled into her relentlessly, as if he could claim and possess her from the inside out. He never again wanted to be part of a world where this witch was not permanently situated on the end of his cock.

As his thrusts sped up, so did the friction upon her sensitive clit, and he felt her clutch and spasm around him, her face a perfect vision of ecstasy which pushed him over the edge of his own climax. He let rip with a cry of passion that emanated right from his gut, spurting hot jets of semen into her again and again until his hips began to slow.

He leaned forward and captured her lips, their faces slick with sweat and their hair a riot of their combined endeavours. Each tongue wrapped around the other, messily joining in a blissfully mutual post-coital haze.

\- xxx –

It was early evening and there was no natural light left in the dungeon quarters. The sitting room was lit was several wall scones, and the flickering fire that Fen had built when delivering them a late lunch.

Hermione and Severus stood before the fire, she in her travelling cloak with her packed beaded bag slung across her body beneath it. He had suggested that rather than brave the corridors and grounds again, that she Floo directly to The Burrow, as it would be impossible for the Weasleys to identify where she had come from. Her cover story was that she had nipped to Diagon Alley for parchment after saying goodbye to her Welsh muggle relative, and then Floo'ed home from The Leaky Cauldron.

Both were reluctant to end their weekend. Hermione stood looking up at Severus as he cupped her face with both hands, the tips of his fingers insinuated in her hair, searching her face as if he were trying to commit her to memory.

"Will you return?" he asked her. "I know I do not have anything to offer you ..."

She placed her finger gently on his lips to silence him.

"Actually you are wrong. You think I am here because I want to help you escape your mental pain, which is partly true, but I am also here because I truly want to be. You make me feel more special, more beautiful; more desirable than any other witch on the planet. I like that feeling, Severus. I know everyone thinks I am nothing apart from _books and cleverness_ , but I am also an adult witch with adult desires. Help me explore them?"

She just continued to amaze him with her utterances.

"I can safely say, Hermione, that it would be my sublime privilege to explore carnal pleasure with you. I shall think of nothing else _but_ that, until I can have you in my arms again."

"Next weekend?" She ventured. "Same time, same place?"

"It cannot come a moment too soon." He replied, kissing her one last time on the forehead and aiming his wand at the fireplace and unblocking the Floo connection that he had secured on Friday.

She scooped up a handful of powder and stepped into the flames, which burned green as she entered. Calling out "The Burrow", she threw the powder around herself and Severus watched as she spun around, tumbling through the Floo towards Molly and Arthur's, and the home they had kindly offered her.

He missed her already.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

The Floo spat Hermione out into fireplace in the warm kitchen of the Burrow, surprising Molly who was stirring a large cooking pot of something that smelled delicious. Arthur was sitting in a large, threadbare armchair in the sitting room ostensibly reading a newspaper, but Hermione suspected behind the large sheets he was actually having a pre-supper nap. Ron was sitting at the kitchen table fiddling with a bottle of butterbear whilst looking paler than usual and a little troubled.

"Hermione, dear!" Molly called, "I wasn't sure whether you'd be home for supper, but never mind there's always plenty! How was your weekend with your aunt?"

"Lovely, thank you Molly," she replied, "All the walking got a bit tedious though, I really miss being able to use magic when I'm around my relatives."

"You'll be ready for a spot of supper then, later when it's ready?"

"Definitely." She nodded, thinking she had worked up _more_ than an appetite this weekend, despite never leaving the dungeon chambers.

She poured herself a glass of water and sat down next to Ron at the long, scrubbed pine table, and nudged him with her shoulder.

"All right?" he mumbled.

"Yes, very. How about you? You look dreadful, Ronald."

"Perhaps you and Hermione should go and have a chat, Ron." She told him pointedly. "He has done nothing but mope since he got home this morning, I don't know what to make of it, my youngest son tells me nothing. Maybe you'll have better luck, dear."

"Fine," Ron muttered, kicking away the high-backed chair as he stood up. "Come on, let's go upstairs."

The clattered up the haphazard staircases together until they reached Hermione's borrowed room.

"Your room or mine?" she asked him.

"Yours. Mine's pretty disgusting."

She had a general idea of the current state of Ron's room, if the shuffling and clumping sounds he made when searching for an item were anything to go by. It would definitely be a more pleasant and possibly more sanitary discussion if they used her neat room. She opened the door and gestured him inside, removing her travelling cloak and hanging it on a peg, and placing her beaded bag on her small bedside table.

They sat down on the bed, cross-legged and facing each other. Ron was extremely fidgety, and looked troubled and nervous, which was an unusual state for him, normally so laid-back and relaxed about everything. She looked at his pale face, blue eyes downcast and so unnaturally white that his orange freckles stood out even more than usual. His fingernails were bitten to the quick.

She reached across and clasped his shaking hands in a caring, friendly gesture.

"What on earth is wrong?"

He lifted his eyes to meet hers.

"I finally got offered a position by the Chudley Cannons." He told her, in a surprisingly monotone voice.

"But that's fantastic news! I know how much you've wanted to play for them. A childhood dream, surely? Why the morose attitude?"

"I don't think I can accept their offer."

"Why not? Is the salary not good? Is the contract unreasonable?"

"Nothing like that. It's a fantastic offer. Position and pay are good, and the team are travelling this season, throughout Europe."

Hermione looked at him, nonplussed, and raised an eyebrow for him to continue.

"Hermione, if I tell you this, you have to swear not to tell anyone else. Not my parents, not Harry, not anyone."

"I think you know by now that you can trust me." She looked slightly offended.

"You know I told you I'd, um, _seen_ that girl from the last team I played for? I only stayed with them a few weeks?"

"I remember you sharing some exploits," she replied, drily, "although I'm not exactly sure which girl though, there have been so many, haven't there Ronald?"

"Keava McDonagh. She plays for the Pride of Portree. Chaser. She's really good. Scary flyer, but amazing on the pitch."

"Thank you for the update. Now what is it that you are trying to say?" She responded a little more impatiently than she had meant to, and immediately felt guilty. It wasn't Ron's fault that she was preoccupied.

"I'm sorry, too pushy."

"Don't be sorry. Well anyway, Keava and me, well, we got together for a while, nothing serious you know, and then I got let go from Portree and I thought that was that." Ron seemed to be gathering his nerve before continuing.

"I got an owl from her this week, asking me to meet up this weekend, and well, you know I'm not one to pass up an opportunity ..."

She rolled her eyes. She knew _that_ only too well.

"We met up in the Leaky Cauldron. As soon as she arrived she started crying. I bloody hate witches that cry, _you_ know that, Hermione."

Hermione felt sorry for the unknown Keava McDonagh, if she'd been expecting sympathy from Ron Weasley when there was a bar menu in the Leaky awaiting his attention.

"She's pregnant." He said simply. "And I'm the father."

"You're joking!" She couldn't stop the exclamation slipping out.

"Wish I was."

"But are you sure? There are ways of establishing paternity, you know, to stop witches tricking wizards into raising children that aren't theirs ..." she was grasping at straws and she knew it, she trailed off when she saw Ron shaking his head slowly.

"We did the spell. She offered to, I didn't even have to ask. It's my baby; I'm going to be a father."

Hermione exhaled a long breath and leaned back against the headboard. Why on earth hadn't Ron and this Keava taken any precautions to prevent pregnancy? There were many ways to protect yourself, both magical and muggle, it seemed unfathomable that one could get caught with an unwanted pregnancy when there were so many methods of contraception available.

As they had snuggled on the sofa on Friday night, after the first time they'd made love and had supper, Severus had enquired as to whether she was protected against pregnancy, and if she required him to cast a post-coital contraceptive charm? She had told him that she took the muggle birth control pill, and he'd thanked her, but offered to brew her the monthly contraceptive potion instead, giving the same reasons that Esther had done, that magical beings should utilise magical methods. She understood his point and he was going to brew a fresh batch during the week ready for her to take her first dose this weekend.

That was all it had taken, a quick conversation, contraception sorted. No unwanted little ones. What on earth was Ron playing at? She knew he was flighty and badly organised, but he wasn't totally irresponsible. Although, it seemed maybe he was.

"Why the hell didn't you use ...?" she began only to be cut off by Ron raising his hand in a _stop_ gesture.

"I know, Hermione, I know. You don't need to tell me. I was a bloody idiot. I only shagged her a couple of times. We were both pretty drunk. It wasn't even a relationship."

"That doesn't make it any better!" She squeaked in a high voice. "It only takes the once, Ronald, just the once! Well, you're right about one thing; you truly are a bloody idiot. You're not even nineteen until next month!" She slapped the top of his arm in frustration.

"What am I going to do about it?" He moaned, and he looked so tortured that she felt a small pang of compassion for her friend's predicament. "I know it's my responsibility. But the Chudley Cannons ... this could be my future."

"You can't do that. You can't leave her to deal with this alone. This mistake was made by both of you, and you must deal with the consequences together."

"Mum and Dad were only nineteen when they married, and not long after, Bill arrived. I don't want the same. I'm not ready for a house and the responsibility of raising kids. I've not even bloody moved out myself yet!"

"I hate to tell you, but when you take the risk of having unprotected sex you accept the possibility that you might sire a child. _Ready or not_."

"You're not helping, Hermione." He glared at her.

"That's because I'm telling you what I think, not what you want to hear. You want me to tell you that you should throw over this Keava and follow your dream with the Cannons, leaving her to pick up the pieces and raise the life that you jointly created. You want me to tell you that that is a decent and understandable way to behave. Well I'm afraid it isn't."

"I don't need this." He shot, springing off the bed and making for the door. "I thought you might be sympathetic, might be able to help me. Thanks for nothing."

She looked at him sadly, not trying to stop him leaving. She had told him the truth, which was most likely what he knew anyway. He was not an idiot. But she could not condone leaving a pregnant witch, no matter what the situation.

"The Ron Weasley I know _and love_ would never leave his child to cope alone."

"Maybe that Ron Weasley is tired of doing everything for somebody else's benefit. This is _my_ time. My moment."

He swept out of the door, slamming it so hard behind him that cobwebs fell down from the rafters. She heard him stomping down the stairs, saying something unintelligible to his parents, followed by the tell-tale crack of an angry apparition at the end of the garden. He had left.

\- xxx –

Dinner with Arthur and Molly that night was awkward. Clearly they knew that she and Ron had argued, and that he had stormed off, upset. The two redheads could not have been nicer to her, however, not taking sides, not pressing her for information, although she would bet that Molly was chewing on her own tongue in order not to ask.

Ron had not returned by bedtime, and Hermione was forced to accept that it was not her problem to worry about. She had always felt responsible for Ron's behaviour, Harry's too, at school, but he was a grown wizard now, of age, and had adult responsibilities to face up to. She had been nothing but honest, and had tried to be supportive, but really, he couldn't have expected her to encourage him to flee from a problem of his own creation?

She arranged her work clothes and bag for the next day, before falling into bed. What an eventful weekend. She smiled to herself as she thought of the time she had spent with Severus, even now feeling a twinge in her stomach as she remembered all the ways he had aroused her, how tenderly he had taken her, and how much he had shared with her emotionally. In just one weekend she felt that she knew the taciturn professor so much better than before.

She also fancied the absolute _pants_ off him, and no one was more surprised about that than she, except perhaps Severus himself. Who knew that such an outwardly sullen and secretive man would make love the way he did? He was an absolute _catch_ , and no one but she, Hermione Granger, knew it. She allowed herself to feel a little smug, before drifting off to sleep.

\- xxx -

She knew she had no chance the following morning as she walked into her office at the Ministry to find Esther waiting at her desk with the expectant air of a cat awaiting a particularly juicy treat. Unbidden, she could not stop a small smile creeping to her lips in spite of her efforts to keep her expression neutral.

"That good, eh?" the older witch teased. "Looks like I was worrying about you unnecessarily. You know how to take care of yourself."

"You didn't already get that from the whole bringing-down-Voldemort fiasco?" Hermione shot back, good-naturedly.

"Good point, well made. I suppose it would take more than popping her cherry to upset Hermione Granger's applecart." Esther grinned, wickedly. "So, how was it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend's forwardness and lack of embarrassment. Still, she had expected no less, and _had_ things all gone to shit, she would have been grateful for Esther's support.

"I shall be giving you no details whatsoever. That is between me and ... him. Suffice to say that it was a very pleasurable experience."

Esther doubled up with laughter, tears of mirth gathering in her eyes.

"Oh, darling. Only you could describe sex as a _pleasurable experience._ As if you've gone out for a rather nice lunch or something. You are such a prim and proper little thing, aren't you?"

"I fail to see what ..."

"Oh, come on, Hermione. I'm only teasing you. I am genuinely glad that you seem to have had such a positive first time, it's not the same for all witches, you know. Even if you refuse to indulge me by not providing a blow-by-blow account of the whole weekend. Am I also correct in supposing that you are not going to enlighten me as to the identity of this mystery wizard?"

"Absolutely correct."

Hermione flashed Esther a warm grin, and then snapped open her work bag, pulling out a sheaf of parchments pertaining to their week's task ahead. The discussion was _over_.

\- xxx –

As Hermione floo'ed out of his quarters, Severus felt all the light and positivity disappear. Before he even caught the last glimpse of her black travelling cloak spiralling into the Floo, he was missing her like a physical pain.

He would struggle to remember a more enjoyable weekend in all his life. It had been almost blissful to have the undivided attentions of such a witch - a witch who inspired his mind, soothed his soul and girded his loins.

He had allowed himself to drop his severe professorial persona and relax his heart, safe in the warm cocoon of care that she had managed to create within his dank chambers. There was no pressure of other people, just the two of them, safe and alone in their hideaway.

Severus felt the familiar stab of guilt that ruled his life as he wondered how he dare secrete away a witch of the calibre of Hermione Granger, keeping her hidden in his dungeon lair as if she was an embarrassment to him. _It was her idea_ , a little voice in his head whispered, _don't mess this up._

As he was having a tussle with his internal dialogue, his Floo glowed green and the strident, disapproving tones of Minerva McGonagall could be heard before her body had even appeared in the grate.

"Severus Snape, where in bloody Merlin have you been all weekend?"

"Good evening, Minerva. How pleasant of you to visit," he drawled, unctuously, settling himself upon the hard sofa with one ankle propped across his opposite thigh, leaning back and folding his arms in an attempt to appear nonchalant. "I have, as you are no doubt aware, because the Headmistress can tell via the wards if any person is, or is not present within the school wall, been in my chambers all weekend."

"Don't test me, Severus. You have not been seen for meals in the Great Hall since Friday lunchtime."

"I can assure you my need for appropriate sustenance has been well met by the kitchen elves."

"You should have been on the night patrol on Saturday evening."

"I swapped that duty with Aurora Sinistra, as you well know. I performed her rounds on Thursday in exchange."

The old headmistress narrowed her eyes at the awkward wizard, who was trying her patience. She had a strong feeling he was hiding something, and there was no way she was leaving without finding out what it was.

"What have you been doing in here all weekend, Severus?"

"The last time I checked my teaching contract, professors are permitted to undertake whatever activities they see fit in their _private_ quarters at their own discretion without the need to _reveal_ those activities, providing that said activities are not illegal or immoral."

He raised a supercilious eyebrow in the direction of his superior, enjoying her expression change from curious to offended before continuing.

"However, in the interests of good harmony and because I have nothing to hide, I shall advise you. I have been undertaking some detailed research in my personal laboratory, regarding an advanced form of the Wolfsbane potion. I did not wish to be disturbed, and on many occasions over the weekend time ran away from me, causing me to miss meals and necessitate calling on the house-elves to provide food."

McGonagall was not convinced.

"If you were in your lab, why did you seal your Floo connection?"

"I should have thought that would be obvious, Madam, I was undertaking extremely pertinent research and experimentation, and I did not wish to be disturbed."

"And warding your chamber door?"

"Don't _you_ ward the doors to your private chambers, Minerva? Does not every member of staff in this school ward their own rooms? Or are you suggesting I leave my private door open to any dunderhead who decides to come wandering into my classroom out of hours?"

"I agree, Severus, but not every member of staff wards their door with such a violently strong protective shield that it burns the knuckles of anyone who knocks on it!"

She held up the back of her right hand, showing him the pale red burn marks across her knuckles and he unsuccessfully tried to hide his amusement. _This_ was why she was so pissed off. She had obviously come to find him after failing to contact him via his Floo, and his industrial-strength ward on the door, with an added stinging hex that would lightly toast the hand of anyone who attempted to enter or knock.

"Let that be a lesson to you. If I am working privately in my own free time I am not to be disturbed. If you need me as a matter of urgency and my door is warded and my Floo blocked, send a patronus or instruct my elf, Fen. I promise you that my private research will not impeach on or interfere with any of my teaching duties or other staff responsibilities when I am on rota."

"You really are the most surly, awkward man, Severus Snape. So be it. Make sure that I see you at meals regularly from now on; it does not look good in front of the students to have a teacher absent the entire weekend. I am sure you would not wish to provoke ... gossip."

"I care little for gossip. I believe the students of this school already have enough material on me for an entire year of speculation and assumption."

The tall witch turned on her heel, frustrated with her dark Potions master. He really was the most obstreperous bloody man she had ever had to deal with.

\- xxx -

After his morning class, third year Ravenclaw Hufflepuff, Severus had a free period, and was spending it stomping through the echoing stone corridors towards the hospital wing. An irate headmistress had clearly wrought her revenge after coming away from their meeting in her quarters unsatisfied the previous evening, and had seen fit to remind Madam Pomfrey, the medi-witch, that Snape's next medical appointment was due.

He had received a note via Fen before breakfast that morning from Poppy, advising him that she would expect him in the infirmary during second period for a thorough check-up, reminding him that as a staff member with a known healing injury and medical conditions on his file, it was her duty to regularly assess his healing and current state of health.

He had set fire to the note with an angry _Incendio_ , scaring the wits out of Fen, who was waiting around to see if there was any reply to take to the hospital wing.

Bloody annoying, interfering witches.

He pushed open the infirmary doors with as much effect as he possibly could, entering the hospital wing with the same vehemence that he entered the classroom, making sure the doors banged loudly on the walls behind them as they swung open. Sadly, all the beds in the infirmary were empty, no sickly first-years to frighten, and it would take more than a noisy entrance to scare Poppy, who simply eyed him with a cross expression and pointed him towards a bed at the far end.

"Good morning, Severus."

He grunted in reply, looking most unimpressed at being summoned.

Poppy gave him a quick visual once-over, always the best place to start. His hair looked different. Clean, not tangled _, glossy_ even. How peculiar. He looked tired, but also bright-eyed, as if that wasn't a contradiction in itself. Was his skin less sallow, or was she imagining things?

"Full check-up this time. You got away lightly last time, young man. Everything off, including your glamour, and lay down on your back, I've cast a warming spell and you can cover yourself with this blanket. I won't uncover anything more than I need to at one time."

"As if that could possibly matter to me, Poppy. You are familiar with every inch of my person, having stitched most of it back together on occasions." He began to strip off his clothes, deliberately staring at the medi-witch to make her feel uncomfortable.

"Well, cover up for me then, if not for yourself. I'm an old woman, I'm not sure I could take the sight of a young wizard in his prime buck-naked in front of me. I might come over all unnecessary."

She smiled to show she was joking, and he smirked back. The two of them enjoyed a caustic camaraderie that went back years, Poppy was nothing if not completely professional, and she knew just how to get Severus Snape to do exactly what she wanted of him.

Once he was naked and covered on the bed, as per specification, she used her medi-wand to cast diagnostics as to his current state of health.

"Your nutrition levels are up, Severus. Have you been eating better?"

He thought of the good meals, _large_ meals that he had consumed that weekend.

"I have, actually. My house-elf seems to have taken my diet on as his personal project."

"It is clearly doing some good. Please try and keep it up. You know I would like to see you carrying some more weight too, so I'll keep monitoring that. Good nutrition will help you gain the weight you need." She continued to cast various diagnostic spells with her wand.

"Hmm, that's odd."

"What is odd?"

"I am getting a high reading for your testosterone levels. Can I ask if you have recently had a sexual encounter?"

"You may, and the answer is no. Unless you count my morning wank, which you already know about and asked me not to mention again due to the coarseness of my narrative."

"I didn't think so. So the reading is odd, I've just cast it again, it is definitely correct, but having a high testosterone level is no bad thing for a wizard your age. You are virile and healthy, young man."

"Thank you so much for that assessment." He drawled, in a sardonic tone.

She tutted and shook her head. _Such cheek._ She pre-warned him that she was going to inspect his skin now, which he was correct; she _had_ stitched back together many a time. The poor boy was more scar than skin.

She checked over the wound on his neck, still appalling to look at but healing nicely. She applied a medicinal balm to prevent infection and encourage further skin regrowth. Poppy inspected the skin on his arms, chest, legs, and feet, moving the blanket around as she worked, aiming for minimal exposure. She had to check over his genitals while she had the chance, knowing that not one part of his body, however private, had escaped the cruelty of Voldemort and his death eaters. She was pleased to see everything looked and felt normal and unscarred.

"Over you go, Severus, let's work down the back."

He flipped over at her bidding and she rearranged the blanket at the base of his spine and over his buttocks and legs.

"You've finally been using the cream!" The medi-witch could not help exclaiming.

"Indeed." He replied. Hermione had applied it twice to him that weekend, the second time being on Sunday after they had made such sensual love in his bed after they had awoken. She had encouraged him to turn on his front while she summoned the big pot of yellow gloop, and had plopped a cold splat onto his back which she quickly began to rub in, warming the cream.

She had taken her time, rubbing the balm into every one of his scars, massaging the areas that were scarred, but healed, and being tender and careful with the unhealed marks. It had been nothing short of utter bliss, and she had reduced him into a boneless puddle of sensitive flesh. He had wished he could have returned the favour but all power of movement had deserted him at that moment. He would make it up to her this weekend, certainly.

Severus was suddenly glad he was laying face-down as his damn cock began to twitch at the memory of the outstanding massage he had received from Hermione. He clenched his arse cheeks and tried to think of something else.

"It makes such a difference. Please persevere with applying it. Honestly Severus, I am impressed with this new attention to self-care. You are better nourished, your back skin looks improved, your hormone levels are high, and might I say, you have finally learnt to wash your hair properly, it looks positively lustrous this morning."

He turned his head to the side and glared at her.

"Please restrain your commentary to items of a medical nature."

Poppy Pomfrey was not scared of the Potions Master. He'd been a runt of a student under her care for too many years. And her experienced mind was starting to add up the changes ... good-looking hair, bright-eyed, back scars had been creamed and tended to, high hormone level ... if she wasn't much mistaken this wizard was getting some sexual attention.

A horrible thought crossed her mind that he was sneaking out to a local brothel and paying for it, and she prayed to all the gods she believed in that that was not the case. Severus Snape needed love and care, not a prostitute selling him her body for an hour, only interested in his Galleons before sending him on his way.

She finished her skin examination of his legs and buttocks before casting a final diagnostic, this one was on his mental state. Her reading showed that although his score still showed cause for concern, it was certainly better than any he'd had for a long time. She would study his chart once he'd left. She had also proved herself correct about something else.

"Severus, are you absolutely sure you aren't lying to me? Because I am convinced that your testosterone levels indicate recent sexual activity. I have no wish to invade your privacy; I am only concerned for your continued good health and safety."

 _And to check you're not risking them by using prostitutes_ , she thought to herself.

"Poppy, you can cease your examination now. I can assure you I am not having sexual relations with anyone other than my own hand." He made to kneel up and felt Poppy's hand on the small of his back.

"Ah Severus," she tutted, and he could hear her smiling. "I suppose you won't be wanting me to heal these fingernail marks and little fingertip bruises on your buttocks then?"

There was a long, drawn out pause, each of them daring the other to speak first, neither meeting each other's eyes.

 _I've pushed him too far,_ thought Poppy.

 _Fuck,_ thought Severus.

"I suppose you could heal them, yes," he muttered, laying down flat again and settling his chin on his hands atop the pillow and glaring resolutely ahead at the metal bed frame and the stone wall behind it.

Poppy grinned merrily to herself as she healed his arse cheeks. He couldn't see her so she was free to be as cheerful as she wished so long as she remained resolutely silent.

Whoever had marked his bottom had certainly squeezed with great enthusiasm. She asked him no further questions but privately wondered just _which witch_ had grabbed themselves a fresh handful of Severus Snape's arse. She wanted to hug them.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

By Wednesday afternoon Hermione was beginning to get a little, well, twitchy. Even the high number of hours that her and Esther were putting in to their werewolf research couldn't distract her fully from that little part of her that wished it were back in a certain Potion Master's chambers. _Ridiculous behaviour_ , she thought to herself, forcing her attention back to a particularly laborious piece of archaic legislation she was trying to work her way through.

After half an hour of watching her younger colleague shuffle around in her chair as if the seat didn't quite fit her arse properly, Esther gave in. She walked over to Hermione's desk and pulled her wheeled chair out, spinning her around so she could meet her eyes.

"Ok darling, I'll bite. You are bursting with questions so why not ask them of someone you trust and who's done it all before?"

Esther grabbed her hand and pulled to her feet.

"Let's take a break. Come on, ten minutes walking around the Atrium will clear your head. Merlin knows we've put enough extra hours in over the last few weeks."

She said the last part loudly enough for Pridmore to overhear, looking across the office at their department head, raising her eyebrow for permission to leave the office briefly. He nodded his acquiescence with a curt bob of his head.

The two witches took the lift down to the Atrium, enjoying the cooler, clearer air that circulated there in the vast cavern, rather than the slightly stale atmosphere of their department offices. Esther guided them to the fountain and they sat on the stone edges, enjoying the light mist from the splash of the falling water and the calming ripples of the pool beneath.

"Less chance of being overheard here by the water," Esther started, by way of explanation. "So come on, what's got you fidgeting around in your chair like your knickers are full of midget puffskeins? As if I can't guess." She finished with a smirk.

Hermione blushed.

"Darling, whatever's up, I can't see it not being something I haven't done a hundred times before you. As have most of the population. Spill your guts. You look like you need to."

"I can't stop thinking about him," Hermione admitted, feeling the heat rush to her face as she flushed scarlet. What an absolutely asinine thing to say. She had somehow managed to turn into Lavender Brown overnight, no conversation aside from the wizard who was currently in her knickers.

Esther laughed, but managed to blurt out; "And this is a problem why?"

Hermione looked at her, surprised at her response.

"Why? It's not normal, surely? I'm not inexperienced in relationships. I've had boyfriends before. I certainly never spent all day mooning about _them_ , I was far too busy!"

Esther was now clutching her belly and had tears coursing down her cheeks as she shook with silent laughter. At the sight of her friend's confused and slightly offended face she only laughed harder, and it took her quite some time to calm down enough to respond.

"Hermione. You've just had sex for the first time. When that happens it's like ... all the universe finally falls into place. You understand what everything's about. You understand how love really does make the world go round. Makes even the sanest witch a little batshit crazy."

Hermione gave her scathing look.

"Ok, let's try it another way. Let's go for logic instead. As a human, you're biologically programmed to reproduce, it's instinctive. Aside from the fact we have evolved to understand and use contraception; it doesn't take away that instinct to mate and reproduce. We are _meant_ to like and want sex. A lot. Repeatedly in fact. And that's ok, darling. It's not wrong to feel that way."

"Mate and reproduce?" Hermione raised an amused eyebrow and could not help chuckling in spite of herself.

"Best I had. I was trying to explain in a scientific way, since you were about to pooh-pooh my love theory." Esther grinned.

"So, without wanting to embarrass myself further than I already have, you are telling me that having filthy thoughts about the wizard I'm sleeping with, at unbidden times of the day, however inconvenient, is completely normal behaviour?"

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but yes. And this is just the start of it. Why do you think I keep my professional and private life so resolutely separate? Why do you think I live alone? Because wizards, Hermione, are all-consuming and utterly distracting. And new relationships are the absolute worst. But don't worry, I'll keep your mind on the job."

"I would hope that I am more professional than to allow a wizard to interfere with my work." She replied, primly.

"The way you were hopping around in your chair? I'm worried you'll wear the seat out by Friday." Esther gave her a filthy smirk, pulling her to her feet and steering her back towards the lifts to return to the office, pretending to ignore the horrified look on the younger girl's face.

\- xxx -

Returning to the Burrow with Mr Weasley that evening, they were greeted by a sitting room littered with Chudley Cannons paraphernalia over every available surface, and Ron being chided by his mother as he packed, clearly not to her satisfaction.

Arthur went straight to the kitchen to pose his nose into various cooking pots, and Hermione headed towards Ron, Molly and the assorted detritus.

"Decided to go then, have you?"

"Decided to go? Why on earth wouldn't he go, dear? This is the position he's been waiting for, isn't it Ron?" Molly enthused, setting a pile of team sweatshirts to fold themselves.

Ron looked at Hermione with a sad expression.

"Come upstairs with me a sec, Hermione? Mum, you alright with this stuff? I need to get more from my room, Hermione can help me; I need a second pair of hands."

She waved him away and both of them guessed she was happier undertaking the task on her own anyway. Packing seven years of school trunks for seven children Molly Weasley was clearly a master of the art. They climbed the stairs right to the top of the Burrow, to Ron's small bedroom under the eaves.

They sat down on the thick rug in the centre of the floor, the bed being covered in clothes, quidditch magazines, Ron's protective helmet and pads that he wore for his Keeper position, and a big bag of what looked like joke products from George's shop.

"Before you lecture me, just hear me out, ok?" Ron asked her, surprisingly earnestly for him, and she bit her tongue and nodded.

"I'm not running out on anyone. Keava and I have spent the last few days discussing this, that's where I've been, with her and her parents. They weren't best impressed to hear the news, I can tell you."

"I should imagine not." Hermione replied, drily.

"She doesn't want a baby now any more than I do, and there's no future for us together, we play for different teams and our lives are going to be very separate. It was only a casual thing, not much more than a one-night stand, really."

"A one-night stand that resulted in the creation of a _child_." Hermione emphasised. She just couldn't help herself.

Ron ignored her and continued. He knew how to deal with Hermione. Mostly.

"She's going to stay at her parents during her pregnancy; you can't fly if you're pregnant. Portree have agreed they will take her back next season. I'm going to support her financially, sending as much as I can from my earnings to cover the loss of hers. When the baby's born we're ... we're going to have it adopted. Plenty of wizarding families who can't have their own natural child would leap at the chance to adopt ours, we're sure. It's not common, as most witches marry and have their children young, but there is one magical adoption agency. We've contacted them and they are willing to help match us with a family seeking a baby. A family who will give him or her a loving home and a great start in life."

She stared at her friend, her heart breaking for him. He had done the best he could to put right the terrible mistake he had made. Keava McDonagh was also paying a heavy price for her involvement, for this was both of their faults, no doubt about it.

She knelt up and moved closer to Ron, putting her arms around him and holding him tight, feeling sobs wrack his body and tears begin to soak the shoulder of her blouse. He must have been holding back all this emotion whilst making arrangements with Keava and her parents, arrangements that would mean the loss of his first-born.

"Oh, Ron. Have you told your parents?"

He pulled back from her and sniffed, grabbing a red handkerchief from the pile on the bed and wiping his eyes and nose.

"No. And I'm not going no. Can you imagine Mum and Dad if they found out they have a grandchild on the way? And then hear that grandchild is going to be adopted out of their family? No, this way is best. What they don't know can't hurt them."

Hermione felt a pang of hurt for Arthur and Molly, but understood Ron's point. If the plan was to have the child adopted then there was no reason to cause his parents unnecessary upset, however morally dubious it might be to conceal the information from them. She had to respect Ron's wishes, especially as it appeared that she was his only confidante.

"Have you told Harry?"

"No, but I probably will. I'm not ready for that conversation yet, but I'm sure I will be once I get used to things." He gave her a weak, resigned smile.

"You can come to me for _anything_ ; you know that, don't you?"

"I do. Thanks Hermione. I love you."

"I love you too. Now go and take some of this rubbish down to your mother. You have a new job to pack for."

Hermione went down two small flights of rickety wooden stairs to her own room. Closing the door and throwing herself flat on her bed she sighed deeply. What a shocking mess. She could only that Ron and Keava would not regret their decision.

Flipping the patchwork quilt over herself to keep warm, she sniffed the air and tried to identify what Molly might be making for dinner, salivating over the possibilities. She wondered who would end up as Head Chef at Grimmauld Place, amused that it would probably be Harry, who had been forced to cook at the Dursleys and could therefore manage a decent bacon sandwich, rather than herself, Ron or Ginny who could all burn water.

She was startled by the tap of an eagle owl on her window pane, a small scroll tied to its leg. Opening the window quickly to admit the bird, she noted that the scroll did not have a Ministry seal so was nothing to do with work. She fed the owl a treat from the small pouch she kept in her bedside cabinet, and the sandy-brown bird went on its way.

She snuggled back under the quilt, unfolding the parchment and a smile spread instantly across her face as she recognised the cramped, spiky handwriting, instantly familiar from years of scathing comments across her Potions homework. He had written to her! Feeling a jolt of excitement in her gut she tried to quickly dampen it down as she was being horribly pathetic and girly, before remembering what Esther had advised. Normal, Hermione, your behaviour is totally normal. Do not stress or analyse. Go with the flow.

 _Hermione_

 _On Friday, instead of apparating to the school gates, I suggest you Floo from the Ministry commuting points direct to my fireplace._

 _I find my chambers rather quiet without your presence._

 _SS_

Lifting the parchment to her nose she inhaled the intoxicating scent of Potions ingredients, sending her into a giddy mess. His plan held merit, provided she could shake Arthur off at the Ministry, as they generally Floo'ed home together. She would have to think up a new excuse for her absence this weekend.

His note was short and to the point, but his sign-off was sweet and she wondered how long he had deliberated before writing it. From what she knew of Severus that sentence was tantamount to a declaration that he missed her. She imagined him leaning over his desk in the Potions classroom, black hair falling forwards obscuring his face as it always did in lessons, not zealously slashing through essays but instead writing her a trite little note. She liked that thought.

In two nights she would be with him again, and she couldn't _wait._

\- xxx –

Severus slunk into his private quarters after a rather long and tiresome Monday. He had worked solidly for several hours after the last class of the day was finished, catching up on his marking that he had neglected over the weekend.

He was annoyed that he had not thought to ask Hermione the marking spell that she had surreptitiously used on his essays before Christmas; now _that_ little trick would be a rather helpful addition to his not-inconsiderable magical repertoire. He had absolutely no idea how she had done it and resolved to stop kissing her long enough this weekend to find out.

He cursed his own stupidity of insisting she teach him the banal drying and detangling spell she had used on his hair (the one that he'd used too well that morning, causing Poppy Pomfrey to describe his hair as _lustrous_ ) rather than the infinitely more useful marking spell. Although his mastery of her self-devised spell did mean that he would spend less time tearing the tangles and knots out of his thin hair with a paddle brush.

He angrily scrawled red slashes across the parchments, scowling that hardly any of the students actually seemed to have paid any attention in class whatsoever, because if they had, their homework would be a damn sight better than the drivel he currently had in front of him.

He was still working through his backlog when the school bell clanged for dinner, and he opted not to anger Minerva any more by missing yet another meal. He secured his classroom with a spiky little ward and stalked through the echoing corridors to the Great Hall to fulfil his nutritional commitments.

He deliberately refused to meet Poppy's eye as they sat at head table, because no doubt the wretchedly nosey medi-witch was bloody smiling. He piled himself a plate of food and poured a large goblet of wine. One sip and he was reminded of Fen's superb little vintage delivery on Saturday. Despite the fact it had knocked them both out, it had been an extraordinarily pleasant bottle of aged red wine. He was now back to drinking piss in a goblet at high table.

He thought longingly (although he couldn't quite identify the emotion for what it was) of dinner with Hermione, just the two of them in his quarters, no need for formality, just good food, good wine, intelligent conversation and not forgetting the undivided attention of the most delicious witch he had ever been fortunate enough to warm his bed with.

He did not notice he was smiling to himself until it was too late, and he caught Poppy noticing his smirk and grinning at him indulgently.

She had fucking caught him _again_. Twice in one day. What were the chances of that?

\- xxx -

A hush fell across the hall first thing on Tuesday morning as Headmistress McGonagall announced to the students that Professor Binns would no longer be teaching History of Magic.

"Cuthbert Binns gave many years of devoted service to Hogwarts," she intoned, "and a great many of those years were after his death."

Severus suppressed a scoff. It was well known that the aged Binns had passed away in his fireside chair in the staff room, then simply got up and continued teaching, as if he had not realised he was dead. This had not affected the dreary man's ability to stupefy a class to sleep without the aid of a wand. He was as dull in death as he had been in life, although paid marginally less attention to the students.

"It is not exactly clear when or why Professor decided to leave us, but I have been assured by the other Hogwarts ghosts that he has now _gone on_. His spirit is no longer within the castle walls." Minerva continued, despite everyone quite clearly not giving a shit – students _or_ staff.

"I have called for immediate applicants for the History of Magic post, and I am pleased to tell you I shall be interviewing potential new professors today and tomorrow. I hope to appoint a new teacher very quickly, and have news of your new professor either Thursday or Friday in order that your studies are not too badly disrupted. Therefore for this week, and this week only, you are excused from your History of Magic lessons and released for private study."

Now _that_ provoked a reaction. Ripples of delight spread up and down the four House tables, along with some very broad smiles. History of Magic was the most notoriously badly-taught subject in Hogwarts, students considered the subject a joke as the ghostly professor droned through his lectures, never acknowledging their presence. His teaching was as dry and unedifying as his earthly body no doubt was.

The news that they would no longer have to suffer his teaching; glee at being let off a week's History lessons, and the excitement that always accompanied the appointment of a new professor would put the dunderheads in good humour for the rest of the day. The thought did not make him feel joyful.

As Minerva dismissed the students from the hall, the teachers slowly made to leave the head table to prepare for the first of the day's lessons. Severus eyed Minerva with amusement as she waited in her chair for the staff to leave, in case any of the professors had cause to speak with her before the day began.

"Losing professors, Minerva? How very careless of you." He drawled, adjusting his cuffs.

"Don't be tiresome, Severus. I have an extremely busy day ahead." She snapped, in reply.

He held a gaze for a few seconds longer than she would have been comfortable with.

" _Clearly_."

He turned, and swept out of the hall towards the main entrance, his dragon-hide boots hardly making a noise on the flagstone floor. It was often said that Professor Snape had the magical power of being able to move around the castle without making a sound, and that was how he was the most feared teacher when on night patrol.

A silencing spell on his boots, obviously. _Dunderheads_.

\- xxx –

Wednesday night, alone in his chambers and finally up-to-date with his marking, Severus was enjoying a pleasant evening in his reading chair with a stout glass of firewhisky and a lycanthropy journal, the reading of which was to assist with his advanced Wolfsbane experiments, he had not _entirely_ lied to Minerva about his important research.

Kicking off his boots and placing his tired feet on a leather footstool, he took a long sip of the spicy firewhisky before rotating his neck slowly, stretching the muscles where they had become cramped from his long reading session. He looked up at the wall of books and was assailed with the memory of pressing his little witch up against it and shoving his tongue so far down her throat he had been surprised it hadn't choked her. He was proving to have no restraint when it came to Hermione.

It was only two days until he would have her back here again. He was not looking forward to having to sneak her all the way up the long path to the castle from the gates, and then through the dungeon corridors to his classroom, there must be a better way. He didn't know what she had told the Weasleys about her planned absence this coming weekend, but he was fairly certain she had not advised them she was intending to lock herself in a dungeon with a former death eater. So Flooing from the Burrow was not an option.

But what about from the Ministry? Their bank of commuting fireplaces offered much more anonymity, as you were much less likely to be overhead stating your destination over the cacophony of noise of thousands of Ministry workers clattering home on a Friday night. She could come straight from work and he could have her sooner. The thought appealed.

He stood up and walked through into his classroom, sitting down at his large darkwood desk that stood on the single-stepped dais that raised it above the student workbenches. He summoned parchment and quill, and began to write her a note.

Several minutes later, all that was written on the parchment was _Hermione_. And he had written and crossed out _Dear_ several times.

For goodness sake, how difficult could it be to write a fucking note?

He felt somewhat rude simply stating his suggestion for travel arrangements, but similarly did not want to write a billet-doux full of gushing sentiment. He doubted she would want to receive it, either.

So he settled for a quick note and ended with _I find my chambers rather quiet without your presence._ Which was true; but unsentimental enough to suit them both. Before he could change his mind he called for Fen and asked the house-elf to take his note to the Owlery for delivery. He wondered if she would reply.

\- xxx –

Two days later, it was finally Friday, although instead of being in his chambers preparing for Hermione's arrival, Severus found himself in the staff room, where all teachers had been summoned following the conclusion of their final lesson of the day. He picked his usual seat by the window, the one he favoured because the large, ornate wingback of the chair made it awkward for anyone else to sit too near to him.

Minerva entered the room, calling for attention with the promise that she would not keep them for too long on a Friday evening.

Walking alongside her was a small, blonde witch with ice-blue eyes filled with an incredibly palpable sadness. Severus wanted to vomit right where he sat. The last time he had seen those eyes they had been silently pleading with him to save her life.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

No, she couldn't have done. And yet it appeared she had. Minerva cleared her throat and addressed the assembled teachers seated around the staff room.

"May I have your attention please? I would like to introduce Faith Burbage, who will be joining us as the new History of Magic professor with immediate effect."

A quiet ripple of applause and murmurs of welcome could be heard from various parts of the room before Minerva continued.

"No doubt you will recognise Miss Burbage from her name and appearance. Yes, she is the younger sister of our dear Charity, lost to us during the war. I trust that you will all do your very best to extend Faith a warm and hospitable welcome."

He wasn't imagining Minerva's warning look at him as she emphasised the word _hospitable_. Severus had never been particularly hospitable to new staff, and especially not to Charity Burbage, and she didn't even know the half of it.

Charity had gone missing in the final year of the war, essentially deserting her post as Muggle Studies professor, a role now filled by the odious Gregory Mollins, a self-styled dapper wizard in his early fifties whom Severus found rather sleazy and untrustworthy.

A search had been mounted by aurors for any sign of Charity, but she had never been seen or heard of again, and had eventually been pronounced dead. Only he and a handful of now mostly incarcerated death eaters knew that Charity had been captured by Voldemort, needlessly tortured, for the woman knew nothing, and murdered by the Dark Lord's own Avada Kedavra. Her body had never been found since it had been fed in its entirety to Nagini right there in the middle of Narcissa Malfoy's formal dining table, in front of Severus' face.

She had turned her blue eyes, brimming with tears of sheer terror, towards him as he sat among the death eaters as one of their number, and begged him to help her, to save her. He could not break his cover without it meaning certain death for both of them, and the end of his usefulness to the Light. There was no way that Charity Burbage was leaving Malfoy Manor alive, therefore he was obliged to keep silent Voldemort had cast his despicable spell, and as the lifeless body of his former colleague was devoured by that heinous snake. As he watched, he had sworn to himself that he would see his mission through to the end, to bring about the downfall of those who had murdered her so ruthlessly. It was all he could do, and he hated himself for it.

"Faith, come with me dear. You remember Filius of course from the interview? As well as his deputy headship he is also the Charms professor. Over here this is Avery Goldsmith, he teaches Defence against the Dark Arts, and Sybil Trelawney, Divination."

Sybil clutched Faith's arm and began to prattle about the noble art of Divination and offering her services to the new professor, who looked a little frightened of the crumpled-looking Trelawney, her shawls and skirts askew as always and a myriad bangles clattering up and down her skinny arms. No doubt she stunk of cooking sherry as well, enough to put off any potential new friend. A hum of chatter had arisen around the staff room as his colleagues discussed weekend plans, current events and made other small talk. Minerva was now walking around the room with Faith Burbage, introducing her individually to the professors.

"...and this is Aurora Sinistra, the Astronomy professor; Septima Vector, Arithmancy, Bathsheda Babbling, Ancient Runes ..."

They had reached the small group of witches behind Severus, and very soon would be approaching him. How much did Faith know about him? No doubt Charity had shared her experience of life at Hogwarts with her family. He hadn't been particularly friendly to her.

"This is Severus Snape, our Potions Master." Minerva had reached the chair where he sat, and Faith Burbage extended her hand to him, which he took reluctantly and shook it. He looked her in the face, her eyes were identical to her sister's, and he was assaulted with the sounds and smells of that fateful night.

This woman could have no idea what he had witnessed. As he touched her hand he felt revulsion for the despicable snake that he was. This woman had lost her sister in the most horrific of murders, and she didn't even know it. She was looking at him with confidence and trust. _Just as Charity had_.

"Good evening Miss Burbage. Please advise me if I can be of assistance while you are new here." He managed to choke out.

Minerva looked pleased, as if he had passed her test and managed to be polite like a good little professor. _Fuck off,_ he thought. I shall behave how I wish. You have no idea of the real reason I am extending a modicum of kindness to this woman.

Just then, there was a frantic hammering on the door, and it was opened by Hagrid, who was just getting up to leave and return to his hut. One of Severus' own Slytherin prefects was at the door, her cheeks pinked from what had clearly been a long run from the dungeon common room.

"Excuse me," she puffed, "I am sorry to disturb you but I am in need of Professor Snape, if possible?"

He rose from his chair, which was partly faced away from the door, where the child could not have seen him.

"Yes, Miss Walton?" His deep voice resonated across the staff room.

She took a tentative step into the room.

"Sir, excuse me, but Carson and Hitching, the fourth-form Hitching, not his brother, they are having a terrible fight, right in the middle of the common room. Me and the other prefects, we've tried to stop it but they are throwing some nasty hexes. A first-former has been hit with a jelly-legs jinx and we can't reverse it."

He was already striding across the room before she had finished. The little bastards would be mincemeat by the time he had finished with them. Glancing up at the clock on the wall it was already six o'clock. He had no idea what time Hermione finished work as she had not replied to his owl, but it was likely she would reach his chambers before he did. As Slytherin head of house he had no choice but to go and deal with his own in-house disputes.

Secretly glad to get away from making any further small talk with Faith Burbage, he strode down the corridor as fast as he could without leaving his prefect Charlotte Walton behind. She was struggling to explain as they walked; the two boys had been fighting over a girl. _What else_ , he thought to himself, and it had erupted into a fight of great magnitude and hexes had been thrown some of which had ricocheted and hit bystanders.

As they reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, he slammed opened the door with as much force as he possibly could, startling the crowd of teenagers into silence. The room looked half-destroyed. He cast his eyes over the room, enjoying the terrified looks of his Slytherins, just waiting to see what move their head of house would make next.

He walked slowly across the room, to where Carson and Hitching were in the centre, both nicely roughed-up. Oh he was about to kick some arse, no mistake about that.

\- xxx –

Hermione left her office walking just slowly enough for it not to be running, much to Esther's amusement. Trying to hold on to her composure, she walked down towards the main atrium where she normally met Mr Weasley by the fountain. He was already waiting for her.

"Arthur," she began as she approached him, "Arthur, I've been invited to a party by my colleague and I'd really like to go. My friend has said I can stay at her home tonight so I don't need to travel back and forth. We're thinking we might make a weekend of it, and go for a long shopping session in muggle London tomorrow, then dinner."

Mr Weasley looked at her slightly quizzically, raising seven children, two of them being Fred and George, must have sharpened his suspicious instincts when it came to being lied to, but he appeared to take her story at face value, and wished her a pleasant weekend. She wasn't entirely sure he believed her, but she was too excited to get to Hogwarts to really care that much.

Once she had seen him disappear through the Floo to the Burrow, she queued for a commuting Floo and when it was her turn, stepped into the flames, calling _Hogwarts, Severus Snape's quarters._

She spun through the connection and landed in his now familiar fireplace, and a shudder of delight ran through her as she stepped out of the grate and on to his hearthrug, brushing a little soot from her clothes and ready to all but leap into the strong arms she had missed so very much.

She looked around and the chambers seemed dark and cold, the only light coming from the low burn of the fire. A quick look in the bedroom and bathroom showed that Severus was not there. Odd. She could hardly stomp around Hogwarts looking for him, so she stoked the fire to get a better blaze going, and lit the wall sconces. All of a sudden she was startled by the crack of elf-apparition, and Fen appeared in the room.

"Fen! It's so nice to see you again. Do you know where Professor Snape is, please?"

"Naughty boys, very naughty boys, Miss. The Master of Potions is with the naughty boys in the green common room. Lots of things is broke. The Master of Potions is being very angry and frightening the children." Fen pulled his long ears down and made a pained face in an excellent parody of a student being shouted at by the fearsome Professor Snape.

Hermione laughed. "I'm sure they are very scared if Severus is on the warpath, Fen."

"Fen's Master is the most frightening Master in Hogwarts, Miss." The small elf said, proudly.

"He is indeed. Now Fen, would you mind bringing me some tea? And some for Severus; that we can keep warm for when he gets back?"

"That is a good idea, Miss! No one is thinking that the Master of Potions needs his tea. This is why Fen likes Miss. Fen will bring it." He beamed an enormous smile and cracked out of the room.

Hermione decided that she would make the quarters as pleasant as possible for when Severus returned. If he was dealing with chaos in his common room after the demands of a busy week no doubt he would be tired, thirsty and cross by the time he had finished.

The dank quarters she had arrived in were not a nice place to return to, cold and dark. _This is what he returns to every night_ , she thought guiltily, thinking of how she took for granted the warm welcome she received every night at the Burrow, the smell of good food cooking and a smile from someone happy to see her. He didn't have that. She wasn't sure if he had ever had that.

She walked through into the bedroom, lighting a low fire in the chamber grate to warm the room through, and a couple of wall sconces by the bed. Carrying on into the bathroom she conjured and lit a whole host of small candles, sending them floating around the room like a hundred fireflies. She set the tub to running, pouring a lush blue bubble bath mixture under the tap which began to fill the room with a delicious fruity scent.

She heard Fen crack back into the living room, and thanked him for the tea tray, which she brought into the bathroom and set upon a small table next to the tub, casting a stasis spell to keep it piping hot.

Finally, she plucked her own pyjamas from the beaded bag and set them on the bed, and rifling through his chest of drawers before finding and grabbing one of his grey nightshirts, which she transfigured into the same grey tshirt and lounge pants that she'd done the previous weekend. All was ready. She couldn't wait to see him, and the frisson of nervous energy that she had worked off whilst flitting around getting everything ready was now back with a vengeance and threatening to gnaw a hole in her gut.

The bath smelled dreamy and she wondered if it was too presumptuous to get in it. It was supposed to be for Severus, but she had no idea when he was going to return. Thinking for no more than a split-second, most unlike her, she shed her clothing, caught her hair up in a messy bun on top of her head, and slid into the divinely huge bathtub, letting out a sigh of satisfaction at the sensation. Relax, Hermione, she thought to herself. Just relax.

\- xxx –

Severus stalked through the corridors back towards the dungeons, his initial blind fury mollified by an hour of therapeutic metaphorical arse-kicking of his students. Carson and Hitching had been suspended for a fortnight as a punishment for their appalling conduct, destruction of the common room and assaulting the first-year. They were currently in McGonagall's office awaiting the arrival of their parents to collect them, and they would return after the Easter holidays, which were only a couple of weeks away.

He had cancelled the jelly-legs jinx on the first-year, who had unfortunately pissed himself in fear, and would no doubt unfortunately be infamous for _that_ for the rest of his Hogwarts career. He had sent the entire House to dinner in the Great Hall, with strict instructions that they were to return straight after and retire to their dormitories with their homework. There would be no usual Friday night socialising.

A few casts of _Reparo_ later and he had put the common room, now empty of students, back into order. He made a mental note to speak to the young witch in question who had been the source of the fight, as to the perils and pitfalls of engaging two young wizards at once.

But right now, he had a young witch of his own that he wanted, no, _needed_ to engage with.

He entered his private quarters from his classroom dais, sealing the door with an aggressive ward, even stronger that the one he had used the previous weekend, now that he had made others suspicious. As he walked into the sitting room he noticed it was much different from the cold darkness he usually returned home to, and not at all unwelcome or unpleasant. Quite the opposite, in fact.

The wall sconces were lit and a big fire burned merrily in the grate. Hermione's travelling cloak was on his cloak stand and his mouth twisted into a broad smile. She had come. Hanging up his teaching robes and frock coat on the stand and leaving his boots by the door he walked through into the bedroom, searching for his prize.

The bedchamber also was warm and light; and his tortured heart leapt to see their nightwear laid out together on the bed, which had been partly turned down. He wasn't quite sure what the emotion was that was coursing through his veins, but he liked it very much.

Hermione had heard him set the ward on the door outside, and so had warning of his impending arrival. It would not take him too long to find her. She heard the bathroom door creak open, and the doorway was filled with her dark wizard that she had so longed for this week.

He leaned against the door frame with his hands in his pockets, and raised an eyebrow at her. He looked impossibly sexy and it was not helping the butterflies in her stomach.

"Well, well. I arrive home and what do I find but a beautiful water sprite in my bathtub surrounded by fireflies? How ... _delightful_." He curled the word around his tongue, enjoying the taste and drinking in the surroundings, from the many tiny candles illuminating the dark room, the smell of the bubbles and the beauty of the witch contained within.

"There is plenty of room," she smiled. "Can I tempt you to join me and wash the week away?"

He curved one side of his mouth into a wicked smile.

"I think, Miss Granger; that you could tempt me into almost anything." He raised his hand and Hermione guessed he was about to perform his wandless, non-verbal _Divesto._

"No, don't." She called out, and he looked up at her.

"Don't?"

"Not by magic. Take your own clothes off. I want to watch you."

"You want ... to watch me?" he asked, incredulously.

She crossed her arms along the edge of the bath and rested her chin on her hands, as if paying rapt attention.

"I do." She smiled.

"Cheeky wench." He growled, and began to unbutton his shirt, keeping his eyes fixed on hers the whole time. Why she wanted to watch him he had no idea.

With each button he revealed more of himself, and she seemed to be drinking in each inch of skin as he exposed it, seemingly looking past the scars. She actually licked her lips. This was arousing her, to see him revealing himself bit by bit. He was getting the idea, however preposterous it seemed.

He dropped the shirt to the floor and started to undo his belt, tantalisingly slowly. Slipping it out of the waist loops of his trousers, it soon joined his shirt on the floor.

Remembering that a man in socks alone was not an appetising sight, he pulled them off before undoing his trousers and dropping them. Standing in his black shorts, his erection stood proudly, as least one part of him knew what it was doing. He caught her eye again.

"These too?"

"You're teasing me, Severus."

"Am I? I had no idea."

"Off. I want to see your cock."

Her bald language was sharply arousing and sent a pulse to his groin, causing the aforementioned cock to spring up with a jolt of interest. She had noticed, and laughed.

"I think you've just been out-voted. It _wants_ to be seen."

This witch was astounding. He slipped off his shorts and looked down at his cock, standing purple-headed and proud. She had him dripping at the tip and hadn't even touched him. He walked over to the bath and sat on the stone wall into which the large circular tub was sunken in to. Cupping her face in his hand, he bent down and planted a soft kiss on her lips.

"Hello." He drawled.

"Hello to you, too. Are you coming in?"

"Most definitely."

He swung his legs over the side and sank into the blissfully warm water, smelling of fruit and full of his witch. He slipped straight under the water to wet his face and hair thoroughly, and as he came up she was moving towards him, kneeling between his legs and raking his wet hair back from his face.

Hermione slid her hands down to cup his ears and cheeks and brought her lips to his in a desperate kiss, she could wait no longer. Tilting her face at a slight angle she began to nudge his mouth open, urgently pushing her tongue inside and swiping around to bring his own out to play. She felt his arms go around her waist and slide up and down her back, which was slippery from the water and bubble bath.

 _Merlin,_ she had missed him so much! However deeply he was kissing her, it wasn't enough. She broke the kiss and stretched her neck back, raising her breasts so they were level with his face, squeezing them in her small hands and offering them up to him.

He needed no further encouragement and sealed his mouth around one nipple, sucking firmly on it, enticing it into a hard peak. Her moans and cries forced him on to the other breast, offering up the same treatment. Had he ever had a witch so desperate for his touch? Had he ever felt so _wanted_ in all his life? Had he ever been so fucking aroused before?

No, no, and definitely no.

"Severus ... Severus, please, I can't wait."

 _Fucking hell._

He shoved both his hands between her legs, lifting her up in the water and pushing her legs to wrap around him. Clamping his arms around her waist, he pulled her down hard so that her desperate pussy was held tight to his aching cock. She was breathing heavily.

"That ... is good news, Hermione, because I have no desire to wait. All I want to do is push my cock inside you. It is all I have thought about all week." He was breathing just as heavily, his voice echoing deeply against her ear.

She reached between them like a snake and inserted the tip of him inside her, and before she had a chance to move down he had grabbed tight hold of her hips and plunged inside to the hilt. She screamed.

"Severus! Oh, my Severus. Oh, holy crap you feel amazing. Even better than I remember."

 _My_ Severus. If he had ever heard a sweeter sound then he couldn't think of it. Using her legs around him as leverage she began to move up and down, her tight walls squeezing every inch of his cock. He assisted her by keeping tight hold of her hips and supporting her movements. Bit by bit she fucked them both higher and nearer towards their edge.

Her breasts were on his face and he licked, nipped and sucked them as she moved. He could not get enough of her soft female flesh, so ripe and lush, delivered straight to his searching mouth. She squealed as he sucked her nipple harder and deeper into his mouth than he had ever done before, rutting her hips faster at the intense sensation. This little witch was going to tip him over the edge sooner rather than later if she kept that up.

"Ughh, Hermione, you'll have to slow down, or this will all be over too fast."

She slipped her arms tight around his neck, pressing her naked front to his chest, and writhing hard and fast in his lap.

"Fast is good. Fast is needed, because I have missed you so much and right now all I want to do is come all over your cock."

She panted the words directly into his ear while licking all around it and he groaned in capitulation, clamping his arms around her, across her upper and lower back, pressing her close against him.

"Fuck me, little witch. Move your dirty little hips fast against me. I need to come inside you."

She moved her hips frantically, increasing the friction on his pulsating shaft, feeling it rub her sweet spot inside, driving her towards her own climax. Water began to slop over the top of the bath, but neither of them cared, they were focused only on chasing their completion.

He squeezed her tightly to him as he felt the telltale signs of his orgasm approaching, reaching for the edge, shaking in his desperation to come.

"No one has fucked me like you, Hermione." He hissed through gritted teeth. "You are an absolute ... fucking ... pleasure. Come with me ... please." He forced his hips to snap upwards so that he could be sure he was catching her internal pleasure centre with the head of his cock. The touch nudged Hermione over her cliff and into the orgasm she was chasing, and she came, her walls clamping hard around him like a tight fist.

"Oh. Oh. Ohhhhhh ..."

Her passion pushed him over the edge.

"Ahhh, fuck, coming ... I'm coming."

He spurted deep inside her, jets of semen that with each burst, showed her how much he had missed her. She took it all.

Without withdrawing, he pulled her down to lay her head on the top of his chest, and lightly sloshed warm water over her back, rubbing her spine sensuously as they both regained a normal level of breathing.

He felt her arm slink up and around his neck.

"I missed you so much, Severus. You would not believe how much."

He kissed the top of her curly head.

"I'm starting to get the idea," he rumbled.

And he actually _was._


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

He turned his head around to inspect the damage to the bathroom, reluctant to move from his position under the warm water with a satiated Hermione sprawled across him. He spied the tea tray set upon a small table that she must have moved from the bedroom.

"Is that tea?" he asked, hopefully.

"It is. I ordered it from Fen earlier. I suppose it would have been more polite to greet you with a cup of tea rather than jump on you like a sex-crazed harpy."

"Certainly more polite, but must less pleasurable. Let me register now my complete lack of objection to any further wanton behaviour you may wish to exhibit." She could hear him smirking and joined in with one of her own, curling her face into his neck.

"You might not have any choice in the matter," she mumbled.

"That, Madam, is not a concern of mine. Now release your death grip on me somewhat, and watch carefully."

She extricated herself from his person, and sat up.

"You are about to show off again, aren't you?" she teased.

"How inane, Granger. I do not show off. I merely demonstrate my superior skill."

He made a few cursory hand movements in the air, siphoning the spilled water from the bathroom floor before levitating the tea tray and bringing it across the room to hover a few inches above the surface of the bath water. A few more indecipherable twists of his fingers and he had removed the stasis charm and set the tea to pouring. Once complete he passed her a cup, neatly finished with just the amount of milk and sugar she preferred. Like everything, he took his own black.

Both of them leaned back against the sides of the bath, sipping their tea in the soft twinkle of the floating candles, their legs and feet touching.

"What an extraordinarily pleasant way to begin my weekend," he began, "warm chambers, hot tea, a freshly drawn bath and a delicious little witch on the end of my cock."

"I'm happy to be here," she replied, simply. "It has been a busy week. I will tell you all about it tomorrow, but for tonight, let's just relax."

"Indeed." He took her hand and kissed it, his volcanic eyes never losing contact with hers. How he could make one word sound like a promise of bliss, she had no idea.

She shivered a little, for she had been in the bath longer than him, and she stood to leave, kissing him on the forehead and encouraging him to stay in the water as long as he wished.

Severus sat back and enjoyed the watching the water dripping down her naked body, her nipples peaked in the cool dungeon air and her bare arse sashay across to the towel rack and wrap herself in one of his huge white bath sheets. He felt for his prick under the water and wrapped his palm around it, already the damn thing was hardening again, eyeing this slip of a girl that he had all to himself in his bathtub.

She moved from the bathroom to the bedroom and left the connecting door open. He could see her standing by the bed, the towel wrapped around her, using her drying and detangling spell on her hair. He could see every curve of her body as she raised her arms above her head. He began to stroke himself more firmly, wanting more.

He watched her fiddle with her hair until it looked almost dry, masturbating his cock slowly under the water. He decided to go and take his chance, and he stood up in the bath and walked dripping wet across the stone floor into the bed chamber, slinking up behind her and pressing his erection into the small of her back, gathering up her sweet-smelling hair and sliding it over her shoulder. Kissing up her neck from the curve of her shoulder, making her breathe faster, when he reached her ear he placed his lips directly next to it, so that they brushed the sensitive shell as he spoke, deep and hypnotising.

"I wonder if I may be so bold as to help myself to your wet little cunt, Hermione?"

He felt her sink a little, falling slightly back into his arms like soft putty and turning her head to plant kisses on his wet cheek. He wondered if she knew how much her obvious desire to make love to him turned him on. He felt himself harden even more, and slid his hands down to the hem of her towel, dipping his hands underneath and enjoying the feel of her bare skin against his exploring hands. He was struck with a wicked idea. Dare he?

Without stopping to think too deeply, he bent her forwards over the bed, enjoying her surprised gasp. He flipped up her towel to expose her arse fully to his view, and what a fucking outstanding view it was. Using his thumbs to spread her labia he guided himself deep inside her, slowly and gently so she could adjust to the depth of their new position. As he bottomed out he groaned at the feel of her damp warmth enveloping his cock, he could feel her walls grasping every inch of him.

"Is this alright?" He gasped, realising that he was a lot closer to coming than expected, having been steadily wanking in the bath. That, and the sheer erotic provocation offered by sinking into her from behind.

She steadied herself on her elbows and wiggled her little arse at him, clenching her vaginal muscles around his prick to show him _just_ how alright she was. He reached around and pulled her towel from her body, allowing her tits to swing freely below her, perfectly placed for him to squeeze and fondle. He began a slow, steady thrusting motion, trying to prolong their pleasure.

Hermione began to moan rhythmically below him, emitting little squeaks at the peak of each thrust that travelled straight to his cock, and the odd _Uhh Severus yes_ reassuring him he was doing a bloody good job.

" _Merlin_ , Hermione," he growled, "that is _not_ helping. I cannot hold on, witch."

She looked over her shoulder at him, curly brown hair wild around her face.

"Who said you had to?" and she raised her eyebrow at him.

"Damn you!" he roared, and he straightened up as he heard her chuckle, grabbing hold of her bare hips hard with each hand, and began to piston inside her, fast and hard, her tight pussy milking his cock for all it was worth. He placed one hand on the flat of her back and pushed down, which tilted her channel upwards just slightly, enough for him to sink in even deeper. He was quite literally nailing her to the hilt and had no way of stopping. He was like the Hogwarts Express at speed with no brakes.

The friction was too much and he felt his orgasm approaching, but he did not slow the frantic movement of his hips. He felt his seed spurt from his cock in hot bursts and pistoned through it, unable and unwilling to slow down until the last drop had been wrung out.

He brought down the pace until he was rocking gently and slowly inside her, massaging her lower back with his large hands, and groaning unintelligibly.

At length, he softened and slipped out of her, cast a quick _Tergeo_ so she did not have to suffer any unpleasant dripping, and spun her round, enveloping the naked witch in his arms and holding her to his bare chest, his heart thumping against her ear.

" _Sweet Circe_ , Hermione; that was ... that was ..." he struggled for the words.

"Bloody brilliant?" he felt her grin against his pectoral muscles.

"And beyond." He breathed, lowering his face and planting kisses on the top of her head. "I am very bad wizard, however, because you did not climax. I was too quick, I apologise."

"Don't be silly," she murmured, pulling away from him slightly so she could see his face.

"You can owe me later." She smirked.

"Witch, be assured I always pay my debts."

"I'll look forward to it."

\- xxx –

The sound of the Floo activating made them both jump. Realising that he had not blocked the bloody connection, Severus sprang into action, seating Hermione on the bed out of sight of the doorway, and walking through into the sitting room to greet his visitor before whoever it was came searching for him and found more people in the potions master's chambers than they bargained for.

Unfortunately, he was still stark-naked.

Minerva McGonagall stepped through the green flames into his grate as he entered the sitting room.

"Severus!" She held up a hand in a vain attempt to shield her eyes, which amused him no end.

"Good evening, Minerva," he drawled. "What an unexpected surprise."

"Severus ..." she stuttered. "Would you not be more comfortable putting some clothes on first?"

He pretended to give the matter some thought, thoroughly enjoying prolonging her discomfort.

"No, not really. Would it make _you_ more comfortable?"

"It would, Severus, yes please."

"I was not offering, Minerva. These are my private chambers, you were uninvited, and I am not on duty. I shall attire myself in whatever manner I see fit." He leaned one elbow on the back of one of the large wingback chairs, not attempting to cover his dangling penis which the old witch was trying desperately not to stare at.

"I suggest that you say what you came to, and then leave so that I may finish drying off, you catch me just out of the bath."

In truth, he was so sweaty after taking Hermione roughly from behind he was almost in need of another wash. Appearing to gather her Gryffindor nerve, Minerva pulled herself up to her full height, which was not far short of his own, and looked him in the eye.

"I was disappointed not to see you at high table for dinner tonight, Severus. I presumed that after you left Carson and Hitching in my office that you would be preceding directly to the Great Hall?"

"You presumed wrong."

"I think that was a rather poor show, to miss our new professor's first dinner. The poor girl is starting mid-term as it is; I had hoped she could count on her colleague's support."

"She does have my support, you heard me offer it. I do not see how holding her hand at the dinner table is also necessary. She will not need babysitting. In any event, I found myself tired and angry after dealing with the hullaballoo in the Slytherin common room, and opted for a bath and early night instead."

She narrowed her eyes at the naked man. Now she had got over the shock of his penis in all its glory, she was getting back into her stride.

"I expect you at dinner tomorrow evening. You are on the night patrol so I'm sure you will not have other plans that will keep you from high table."

"Rest assured I shall be there."

He stared at her, attempting to make her feel uncomfortable enough to just piss right off. The second he saw her ridiculous hat disappear through the Floo he was going to block the connection so securely that no one would be able to use it for a week.

"Good evening then, Severus."

He dipped his head in a small bow. "Good evening, Minerva."

The flames glowed green; and he shot a harsh wandless blocking spell at the fireplace before returning to the bedroom, where he found Hermione doubled up in silent laughter on the bed.

He climbed up next to her and began to pull her naked body across the bed towards him.

"I can assure you that was _not_ funny, Hermione." He chided, assuming a severe look.

"It was brilliant! I can't believe you just gave Professor McGonagall a full-frontal!" She exploded into giggles, and he decided he liked the sound, as long as he didn't have to hear it too often.

She looked up at him, and he lay there seriously, waiting for her to stop laughing. She edged herself closer to him and began to run her hands over his chest and arms, entwining her legs with his and insinuating herself around his body.

"Just don't go showing yourself off before _too_ many witches. I want this all to myself, you know, and I do not like to share." She gave his arse cheek a playful squeeze, and stretched up to plant a plop of a kiss on his mouth.

Looking down at her, his eyes contained an unreadable emotion, and burned black against hers.

"Everything you hold is yours." He told her, in a quiet voice. "I have no interest in other witches; let me make that very clear to you."

"Well, that is good to hear." She pulled him tight against her and traced light kisses down his cheek, continuing to his neck and on to his shoulder, suddenly losing the urge to giggle after his serious declaration.

"For as long as you will have me, Hermione. I promise you that."

"I cannot see there is anything that would make me stop wanting you."

"You have many more of my memories to view in the pensieve, one of which I wish to show you tonight. Do not make promises you cannot keep."

"I won't."

"I know. Thank you."

\- xxx -

They were sat together in the two wingback chairs by the wall of books, clad in pyjamas and full of an excellent dinner of fish, chips and peas brought to them by Fen. Hermione discreetly noted that Severus finished everything on his plate, and she even distracted him into eating two pieces of fruit from the mixed bowl she had asked Fen to bring.

They had talked all through the meal, Severus taking an interest in her work and asking many pertinent questions about her research and proposed changes for the regulation of werewolves. He had told her about his work on his variant of the Wolfsbane potion, and it was possible that his experimentation could prove useful in her campaign for reform. They were going to work in his laboratory over the weekend and see what they could come up with together. Hermione was tremendously excited at the prospect.

She had told him about Ron, and the unplanned pregnancy. He had been predictably scathing towards her friend's stupidity, and she supposed she could not argue with that. It led to a discussion regarding their own contraceptive arrangements, and he advised her that her potion was ready and she could take the first dose in the morning, although suggested to keep taking her muggle pill for another week also, just to make sure they were covered.

Sitting in the armchairs, he began to explain what he wanted her to view in the pensieve that evening, whilst summoning the magical bowl to float between them. He explained there was a new professor at Hogwarts taking over from Professor Binns who had apparently finally realised he was dead and shuffled off his mortal coil, and that he, Severus, was going to find being in the new teacher's presence difficult.

"What I am going to show you, Hermione, does not present me in a good light. But then again, none of what you will see is particularly favourable, so I see no loss in continuing. I would sincerely appreciate your advice as to my position, as you seem to have an annoying knack of coming up with succinct and correct answers, however galling I may find it."

She basked in his praise, feeling a little stupid that she still courted his good opinion like he was still her most difficult teacher, rather than a wizard she was sleeping with.

"Do you remember Charity Burbage, your Muggle Studies professor? You took Muggle Studies, did you not?"

"I did for a brief time. But yes I remember Professor Burbage. She went missing during the war, didn't she? No one ever found out what happened to her?"

There was a long pause, and he looked at her intently, willing her to understand.

" _Almost_ ... no one; knows what happened to her."

Hermione's hands fluttered to her mouth in shock.

"Oh goodness. You know, don't you?"

"I do."

"Was it you? _Shit,_ I don't mean it like that. I mean, were you forced to hurt her?"

"I was not. But I do know what became of her, and I did nothing to save her. And now her sister is here, appointed to teach History of Magic at Hogwarts."

"Oh. Oh dear. That must be terribly awkward."

He huffed out a short, mirthless laugh.

"Awkward. That is one way of putting it. Let me show you the full story, and as before, I shall understand if what you see disgusts you, and leads you to want to cease our ... _interactions_."

She wondered if he had been about to say _relationship_ , and had balked at the word. Was that what they had? Were they in a relationship? Was Professor Snape her _boyfriend_? She pushed the thought to the back of her mind, as she had an important task to complete before she started asking herself those questions. She took hold of his hand.

"We go together."

He extracted a long swirl of silvery-grey memory using his wand, and dropped it into the pensieve.

"This is slightly different to our previous outing. The memory I have just extracted is a combination of several different encounters I had with Charity Burbage, rather than a single event."

She nodded her understanding, and still holding his hand, they leaned their heads forward into the swirling mist in the bowl.

\- xxx -

They were set down into a memory of a Hogwarts corridor, but as the uniforms had not changed over the years, it was impossible to tell _when_ they were. As students hurried past, she could not see anyone she recognised. Suddenly, her eye was drawn to a tall, skinny young man with long black hair and billowing teaching robes approaching them down the corridor.

His boots clacked on the floor, contrary to the silent way Snape now moved around the castle. He looked much less of an imperious presence back then to the terrifying dark professor of Hermione's school years, but he still held himself with arrogance and a general air of unpleasantness.

"I had just started teaching at Hogwarts," Severus whispered in her ear. "The Dark Lord had just been defeated for the first time, reduced to almost nothing by his own rebounding curse."

She understood what he was _not_ saying. This memory was from a time when Lily and James Potter had just been murdered and their infant son left an orphan at the hands of the dark wizard he had worshipped.

"Dumbledore agreed to accept me on his teaching staff, to protect me from Voldemort's death eaters who were still at large. He appointed me Potions Master, due to the training I received with the Dark Lord's financial backing. He refused to give me the Defence against the Dark Arts post, despite my extensive knowledge. At _that_ point, he knew me better than I knew myself."

Hermione wondered, with his intentional emphasis, if Severus meant that further on in time, Dumbledore had ceased to understand him, and had made errors of judgement as to what would be best for him. She thought, given what she already knew; that it would seem likely.

As memory-Severus swept past them, unseeing, a small blonde witch in teaching robes appeared at his side, and lightly touched his arm to get his attention, and he flinched at the unexpected contact.

"Severus Snape? I'm Charity Burbage, professor of Muggle Studies. It seems we are the youngest members of staff by a long way, so I thought I'd introduce myself?" She held out her hand, which he did not take, and looked down his long nose at her.

"I fail to see what our similar age has to do with anything."

Hermione exhaled a soft whistle. "Well, you were a charmer, weren't you Severus?"

He didn't reply.

Charity Burbage was clearly wrongfooted by his curt answer.

"Well, I don't wish to intrude, but, as we are trapped in a school full of children; and the staff is full of professors significantly older than us. I thought we might find some common ground, perhaps be friends?"

"You may be trapped, Miss Burbage, but I consider it a great honour to be here."

"No," she stammered, "I didn't mean it like that. I meant ..." she trailed off as she looked into his icy glare.

"Let me save you the trouble. I am not a man who has friends. I am here to do my job. Should we pass in the staff room, I shall be cordial. Good day, professor."

He turned on his heel and began to walk away, his hair and robes streaming behind him, leaving Charity Burbage gaping like a fish in the corridor.

 _The mist swirled._

They were now in the library, clearly late at night as it was dark and empty of students and Madam Pince. They were arguing. Both Severus and Charity looked a little older than the previous memory, a little more tired, but not by a significant amount of years.

"Severus, listen to me," Charity was saying. "That really was unacceptable, you berating me in front of my students in that manner."

Severus continued to take books of the shelves, flick through them, and arrogantly shove them back into place as if they personally displeased him. He did not answer her. She stepped towards him and took hold of his arm.

"Severus!" she hissed, boldly, and he froze, staring at her hand clutching the black sleeve of his coat.

"Remove your hand from my person, Charity."

"I won't. Not until you listen. You were completely unreasonable today, and you are always the same! You strut around the castle as if you were the best professor here ..."

"I _am_ the best professor here. I am the only teacher qualified to Mastery level in my subject."

"And we all know who paid for _that_ , don't we?" Charity spat, her blue eyes alive with an unusual fire.

As if she had burned him, he snatched his coat from her grip and grabbed her by her upper arms, pushing her against the solid library bookshelves.

"How dare you? You stupid little witch. You know _nothing_."

"I know you've done everything you can to spurn me since you arrived here."

"Spurn you? In what sense? Your trite little offer of friendship that you made when I first started? An offer which you have repeated on several occasions, usually at Christmas when you are lonely and lacking a wizard to warm your bed."

"Bastard!" she shouted, trying to writhe free from his grip on her arms. "I only ever wanted to be friends with you."

"Really Charity? You really do know nothing. Nothing of what being _friends_ with a man like me entails. Let me enlighten you."

With that, he crashed his mouth to hers, forcing her lips open by thrusting his tongue between them. She struggled, but was no match for his strong hands keeping her pinned to the wall of books. He travelled down her throat, leaving marking, sucking kisses on her pale neck.

"Severus, please, don't do this." She pleaded.

"No?" he replied coldly, biting her clavicle and starting to slide his hand up her skirt. "You don't want to be _friends_ any more, Charity?"

"Stop! Please!"

He stopped before reaching her thighs and removed his hand from her skirt, standing up straight. He squeezed her breast through her clothes before taking a step backwards.

"Pity. I was so looking forward to having you."

"You are a sick wizard, Severus." She spat, backing away from him. "You need help, and I hope you get it."

She fled from the library, and memory-Severus chuckled to himself, adjusting what was clearly the beginnings of an erection beneath his fitted coat.

 _The mist swirled again._

They were in the staff room, or rather, what Hermione presumed to be the staff room, as she had never been in there. Severus, much nearer his own age this time, sat at one of the working tables, signed a paper that Charity Burbage held in front of him. Once done, he nodded at her and she nodded back before leaving the room.

"That was the extent of our relationship from then on, after the night in the library. We were cordial colleagues, no more. No unnecessary conversation. No interaction other than work." Severus spoke behind her.

"May I hold you? I know what is coming next."

"Of course, why would you ask?"

"Because of what you have just seen."

"It was a long time ago Severus, you were clearly very young, and clearly a bit of an arsehole."

He barked out a short laugh in spite of the seriousness of their current situation. He really did love her blunt truths. Slipping his arms around her waist, he tucked himself into her back and enjoyed the feel of her hands gripping his. She rested her head on his chin as the mist swirled.

He felt her tense as she realised they were back at Malfoy Manor, this time in the formal dining room, where the assembled death eaters were gathered around the long table with a fearsome Voldemort at the head. He could see himself, looking much as he did now, staring at the spectacle in front of him with a neutral expression, not daring to give himself away, knowing that he could not save her.

Charity Burbage was twisting above the table, being taunted by Voldemort. She was dripping blood from a head wound, and although clothed she had clearly been subject to the some form of torture. As she revolved, she was able to look all the death eaters in the eye.

"Severus." She called out. "Severus, please. We're friends."

At that Voldemort had cast his _Avada Kedavra_ and Charity's lifeless body had fallen to the wooden table with a sickening thump. He commanded the giant snake to dispose of the incriminating body, Nagini slithered down the table with her jaws opened wide, swallowing the body head first with ease. The sight of the snake with the clear outline of a person inside being digested by the inner stomach muscles of the huge beast, was enough to make anyone vomit.

The mist swirled, and Severus was pulling her out of the pensieve.

\- xxx -

They were sitting side-by-side in the chairs, as they had been before they entered the pensieve. Hermione was still clutching his hand, although a little tighter now. She looked across at him, and he was staring at the floor as if he was scared to look at her.

"I could not save her." He intoned, dully. "Any move I made to recognise the companionship of Charity Burbage would have meant my instant death as a traitor to the Dark Lord. I had no choice but to pretend I saw her as nothing but a muggle-loving blood traitor. Of all the bloodstains I carry on my hands, Charity's are among the most despicable."

Hermione stood up and took the single step needed to bring her in front of him. She tipped his chin up gently so that he was forced to look her in the eyes.

"You did not kill Charity Burbage, Severus. A wicked man named Tom Riddle killed her. If you had not survived to play your role in the war, I shudder to think where the wizarding world would be now."

She sat down on his lap, pulling one of his arms over her like a blanket and swinging her legs over the arm of the chair. She nestled into his chest, and felt his other arm fold around her back and pull her in tight. He rested his cheek on the top of her head and for a long while the two of them sat in the same quiet contemplative silence as they had done after their first trip in the pensieve.

After a time, he spoke.

"I am unprepared to deal with Faith Burbage," he stated.

"You do not have to deal with her. Just treat her as you would any other member of staff. She knows nothing of what happened."

"I find it troubling that I know what fate befell her sister and she does not."

"There's nothing you can do about that. It would not help her to know that her sister died alone, tortured and terrified. It will not change what has happened. You will have to hold your peace, in order that Faith can retain hers."

He sighed deeply, stroking her arms gently with his fingertips.

"I know you are right. You always seem to be right, little witch. You are so very good for me."

"I aim to please," she drawled, mimicking him.

"And I aim to take you to bed. To _sleep_ , before you get any ideas. I find myself exhausted and I am sure you must be too." She nodded her assent.

He stood up from the chair in one smooth movement, pushing up with what were obviously extremely strong thigh muscles, as he managed to keep hold of her in his arms as he rose. He walked through to the bathroom before depositing her in front of the sink.

"Teeth, little miss daughter of dentists. I shall go and douse the lights and the fires." She heard him padding around the sitting room, and the subtle vibration of his magic as he prepared the chambers for the night time.

Once all was dark, he joined her in bed from his own final ablutions in the bathroom, and they met in the centre, both tangling themselves into each other's bodies like devil's snare, lest the other should escape away from them in the night.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Severus opened his eyes to the yellow brightness of mid-morning, rather than the grey gloom of dawn that was the usual sight that greeted him as he awoke. He looked across at the small witch facing towards him, still in deep slumber with her insane hair spread over the pillow and her cheeks flushed with the warmth of sleep.

He marvelled at how much longer and better he appeared to sleep when he shared a bed with Hermione. The first time they spent the night together, astonishingly only two weeks previously, in her guest quarters far above the dungeons, he had passed one of his most blissful nights in living memory wrapped up in her arms. Not that he would tell her any of this. He had already made far too many declarations to her, had laid himself far too open to the possibility, nay, _probability_ of severe hurt when she decided enough was enough and abandoned him.

How much longer did he have with her? How many more mornings would he wake up like this? His usual demons crept over his skin like a grey, festering rash, his insecurity and self-loathing so much stronger than the occasional glimmers of happiness that life had seen fit to grant him.

And yet curiously, Hermione had given him strength. She bolstered his confidence. She reassured him. She made him feel emotions he had not felt for the most desperately long time. She gave him ... hope.

It was quite comical really, that such a tiny witch could have such a solid, dependable core of steel inside her. She was wise way beyond her years, but with the playfulness of youth that both enchanted and worried him. How much longer would it take her to realise she had the shoddy end of the deal in this ... _whatever it was,_ between them?

Thankfully before the dark side of his mind could take him too deep into his usual downward spiral, his libido registered the swell of Hermione's pert breasts beneath her white sleep vest, nipples and aureolae clearly visible through the light material. _Yes, please._ He licked his lips, and shuffled himself down the bed and across towards the sleeping angel.

Sliding under the quilt, he pushed up her vest and began to trail small kisses on her stomach, around her belly button before began moving upwards. Pushing the soft garment above her breasts he bared them to his view, giving himself a jolt of arousal that hit him straight in the groin, but really, could anything look more succulent than a pair of freshly exposed nipples ripe for the attentions of _his_ mouth and tongue only?

Laying his head on the mattress right next to the soft, white mounds, he extended his tongue towards the nearest of her nipples and began to slowly circle the little pink bud, leaving a wet trail around it. Hearing a little _mmm_ from above him, he folded his lips around it and began to suck gently whilst continuing to lick in maddening little circles. The puckered nipple began to harden into a point, and he opened his mouth, drawing as much breast as he could manage into his mouth, enjoying the feeling of a mouthful of her delicious tit.

He felt her arm move and she placed her hand on the back of his head, screwing up little handfuls of his hair and pushing his dark head a little harder on to her breast. _Merlin,_ she wanted him to continue. She liked his attentions. He did not repulse her.

These thoughts alone were enough to spur Severus out of the remainder of his depressive morning funk, and he turned his attentions to her other breast, using his large hand to guide her nipple to his mouth and teased it with the very tiniest tip of his tongue, making her gasp and fist his hair in frustration. From the movement of the mattress, he could tell that she had started to writhe around, her arousal from his ministrations growing more restless.

He released her breast from his hand, drawing it as fully into his waiting mouth as he could, and snaked his long arm across to her, pushing his hand between her thighs and palming her pussy through her pyjama shorts. Massaging with his full hand he could feel her burning hot and ready, grinding against the intruder between her legs.

He nipped at her breast and she squealed, making him chuckle darkly against the soft flesh.

""Good morning, Hermione."

"Good morning ... Severus," she panted, already highly aroused. Really, was there anything more satisfying to a wizard's ego than having a witch hot and breathless under the touch of his hand and mouth?

"I apologise, I seem to have disturbed your sleep." He gave her nipple a hard lick, before transferring back to the other one; and slipping his fingers inside the loose leg of her shorts, stroking against her outer labia.

"Trust me when I say I forgive you," she replied, rubbing against his fingers, desperate for more friction.

He rose up on his elbow to look down on her, breaking away from her breasts and withdrawing his fingers from her shorts. As she looked up at him questioningly, about to complain, he raised his eyebrow at her and with a wave of his hand they were both naked. She closed her mouth, all admonishments forgotten as she urged him on top of her, spreading her legs to nestle him in the cradle of her thighs.

Sure of his welcome, he pushed inside her, stroking her inner walls as he slowly entered and feeling them envelope his cock with their hot, wet warmth. Grabbing one of her wrists and then the other, he brought them up above her head and secured them together on the pillow with one hand, stretching her out like a long, delightful instrument that he intended to play.

She looked up at his, her honest brown eyes full of desire, for _him_. He still could not believe it. He had her laid out on the bed, held under him from top to toe as he plunged slowly in to her, drawing out just as inexorably slowly, steadily building up the intensity between them.

Keeping her hands fixed above her head, he angled his hips so that each movement he made rubbed over her taut clitoris, stoking her higher and higher. The covers fell from atop them as they writhed together; he could not pull his eyes from hers as he repeatedly rolled his hips against her like a constant steady wave hitting the shore. He sank his cock into her again and again, clenching his buttocks on each thrust to push further inside her.

" _Hermione_ , _uunnh_ ," he bit out, desperately, in his deep, familiar voice, breaking off at the pinnacle of each thrust. "My sweet girl. _Nnuuh_. The sweetest girl. _Uhh_."

He began to piston faster as he felt his orgasm swell imminently, unable to hold on any longer. She crested just as he did, the increased friction on her clitoris coupled with his deep, relentless thrusting pushing her over the edge as he spurted his release into her.

" _Aaarggggghhhhh!"_

" _No! No!"_

Unfortunately, that had not been Hermione screaming.

"Oh my goodness, Severus, quick, get up!"

 _That_ had.

Coming back to himself, he turned to the right to see Fen standing on the mattress, jumping around as if he had burned his feet, clutching at his smock as if he was trying to tear it to pieces, mouth wide open and screaming.

"No! Master of Potions must not hurt the Miss! Let her go, Sir, Fen is begging you! Hurt Fen instead! Not the Miss, Master needs the Miss!"

Severus leapt up from on top of Hermione, releasing her wrists and throwing the quilt on top of her nakedness. He wasn't embarrassed about having his bits out in front of a house-elf, but _she_ might be.

"Fen, what in bloody Merlin are you screaming about?" he asked the elf, crossly.

"Fen is bringing breakfast to the Master of Potions and his Miss! Master ordered breakfast and newspapers, like last week, Sir! At this time!"

Severus cast his eye behind the angry elf and saw there was indeed a large tray of food hovering behind him, along with the Saturday papers.

"And then!" Fen puffed up his little chest with righteous anger. "And then, Fen sees the Master of Potions trying to ... kill the Miss!"

Fen looked over at Hermione, who was now sitting up against the pillows, rubbing some life back into her wrists and looking thoroughly amused at the proceedings. He hopped over to her, grabbing up her hands and healing the light red marks around her wrists, looking daggers at Severus.

"I was not hurting Hermione, Fen. I was certainly not trying to kill her."

"Miss is hurt," he pointed at Hermione's wrists, now completely back to their usual colour after the brief lack of blood flow they'd experienced during the climax of their lovemaking.

"I'm not hurt, I promise you, Fen. We were just ... just ..." she cast around for words, looking at Severus to help her out.

"Fen, how are elf babies made?" Severus rumbled, and both Hermione and Fen turned to look at him.

The house-elf went bright red, and pulled his ears down over his eyes in embarrassment.

"Fen cannot speak of that! Fen is not be making elf babies yet!"

"But you understand _how_ they are made, correct?" Severus was rapidly becoming less angry and more amused as he raised an enquiring eyebrow at the elf and waited for an answer.

Fen uncovered his eyes and looked from Severus to Hermione, and back again.

Something akin to comprehension of exactly _what_ he had just interrupted flickered across Fen's expressive face. He looked a little sheepish, and then his expression changed as if he was highly offended.

The elf eyeballed his Master, jutting his chin out and pursing his lips as if he was trying not to say something very rude.

"We is certainly not making them like _that_ ," he replied, with a disgusted look at the naked couple on the bed, before cracking out of the bedchamber without another word.

Hermione and Severus looked at one another and burst into peals of laughter. Real, strong, honest laughter that echoed around the stone dungeon walls. They laughed until their stomachs hurt, wiping the tears from their eyes before collapsing against each other in a sated heap.

Severus could not remember ever laughing like that before.

\- xxx -

After they had breakfasted, showered and dressed, Hermione and Severus were sitting facing each other on the hard grey sofa before the fire; the pensieve hovering ominously between them like an unwanted guest.

Severus began to speak, slowly and cautiously.

"It is often said that the child maketh the man. In my case, that is almost certainly true. I was the only son of a disastrous union between a witch and a muggle. I would rather you not see these memories, in truth I would rather not visit them myself again, however I find myself unable to explain my childhood with any kind of coherency."

She reached under the pensieve and sought out his cold hands, which she clasped between her warm ones.

"It is often our earliest memories and experiences that are the most powerful, the ones which shape us and have a profound effect on the adult we grow up to be." She told him, softly stroking his thumbs with hers.

Nodding slowly in understanding, and letting go of her hands, he drew several long streams of silvery memories using his wand, depositing each of them into the bowl, watching them blend on the surface, neither liquid nor vapour. Rejoining her hands under the pensieve, they both leaned their heads forward until they were pulled into the swirling tendrils of memory.

They were in a small sitting room, cramped, dreary and unkempt. Outside the window, through the dirty net curtains, Hermione could see a row of grey terraced houses opposite, and noisy children playing out in the street, occasionally being beeped at by passing cars.

A furious roar brought her attention back to the occupants of the room.

"Eileen! _Eileen!_ "

A tall, thick-set but muscular man with very short hair and his face purpled with anger held a small, skinny boy, aged about three or four years old by the scruff of his shirt collar. The black-haired, pale boy was struggling unsuccessfully to free himself from the man's grip; his little feet were scrabbling to gain purchase on the floor, whereupon lay the remains of what appeared to be a smashed bottle of some kind of liquor. The whole room stank of alcohol.

"You're going nowhere, boy. You evil little freak." The man snarled at the child, pulling him sharply up by the collar, making him scream.

"May I introduce my father. Tobias Snape. Muggle. Mill worker. Everyone who lives in this road works at the mill at the top of the street." Severus indicated the outside road with a wave of his hand as he whispered in Hermione's ear.

"I had just experienced my first manifestation of childhood magic. I had managed to rip my father's bottle of whisky from his lips and smash it on the floor, without moving from the other side of the room. In my defence, the bastard had probably been drinking all day. I must have been angry with him."

Footsteps could be heard running heavily down the stairs and the door was flung open to reveal a tall, skinny woman with straight black hair and a hooked nose who looked so like the adult Severus that Hermione felt like crying for his loss. It was clear which side of the family tree he had taken after. That alone must have annoyed his father, clearly the worst kind of muggle, an expression that Professor McGonagall had been fond of using.

Tobias Snape hefted the child around to face his wife.

"Your son, Eileen. _Your son_ , who has just proved he is as deviant and as unnatural as his mother." He spat, thrusting the boy onto the floor in front of him, cutting his knees and hands on the broken glass. The child began to cry.

"Don't you cry, boy. Don't you _dare_ cry. Girls cry. Not men!" he looked down at his sobbing son with a curled lip of disgust. "But that's not going to be you, is it boy? Oh no, you're not going to work at mill with the real men, you're going to be a big nancy just like your mother's friends from that ... that _school_. Floating around in black and waving your wand like a poof. Well not in my house you won't!"

He booted the small boy up the backside, causing him to skid across the floor, clutching himself with a scream of pain, dragging the blood from his fresh cuts across the wood.

"No, Tobias! Leave him!" Eileen Snape grabbed her burly husband by the arm and attempted to pull him away from the child Severus. He grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the wall.

"Or what?" he sneered. "What are you going to do about it, you sad old cow? Cast a spell on me? Turn me into a frog? Go on then love, I dare you. Grab your little magic stick and do it!"

She visibly crumpled, and slumped against the wall until Tobias' fist was the only thing holding her up.

"Not much of a witch, are you? Pathetic."

He jerked her head to bang against the wall, and then let her fall to the floor. Stepping over her, he calmly walked across the room towards the front door.

"Going to get me some more scotch. Seeing as that little bastard just ruined the last lot."

The door crashed as Tobias left the house. For a few seconds, nobody moved, as if they were scared to breathe. Then Eileen sat up, and scooted across the floor to her silently sobbing son, uncaring of the glass that scratched her.

She did not embrace him, which surprised Hermione. Surely as a mother her first instinct would be to cradle the child in her arms?

Instead she withdrew her wand from where it was concealed within her dress and began to seal the wounds on Severus' hands and legs.

"Ma?" The small boy questioned.

"That was magic you did, Severus. Oh yes, you are a magic boy. Your Ma will show you everything you need to know. Just don't tell your Da. Hide it away from him. Our secret, it must be our secret. Do you understand, Severus? This is very important."

"Magic." The child repeated. "Me magic."

"Yes you are, son. You most certainly are."

The mist swirled, just as it had when they had watched Severus' collected memories of Charity Burbage. Hermione slipped her arms around his waist and tucked herself under him arm. How painful must that have been for him to watch, and how much worse was it going to get?

They landed in a low, claustrophobic attic room, choked with dust and dirt. Severus, a little older now, maybe seven or eight, was kneeling with his mother on the floor brandishing her wand, making a line of small tea cups dance in some sort of strange conga from one box to another.

Eileen's eyes were alight with eagerness.

"Yes, Severus, yes, that's it." She hissed, seemingly more excited by the actual magic rather than her young son's skill. "And now, do it ... do it ..."

Young Severus took a deep breath.

" _Reducto_!"

He flicked the wand at the line of tea cups, blasting them all into smithereens that clattered on to the attic floor.

Eileen's eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"Oh yes boy. Very good. Very nice, Severus."

 _The mist swirled._

They were now in the kitchen, but clearly in the same house. Severus, a little older again, was in the kitchen standing at the worktop. Sounds of fighting could be heard from the living room. Peering around the door, Hermione could see that Tobias Snape was once again assaulting his wife.

The child Severus stood motionless in the kitchen, his hands clutching the work surface until his knuckles were white. As the first slap and cry of pain was heard, it appeared to galvanise the boy into taking action, and he lurched towards the back door, wrenching it open and throwing himself in to the small, concrete back yard, through the back gate and down the narrow alleyway between the rows of identical terraced houses.

"That was the day I met Lily and Petunia Evans, in the park where I ran to." Severus whispered. "No doubt you know all about _that_ part of my history?" She nodded, and snuggled in tighter under his arm.

The scene changed yet again and they were back in the attic. An older Severus sat with his mother, who looked haggard and defeated; although her black eyes were alight as she watched her son, who was wielding his mother's wand with confidence and skill.

A fat mouse wandered across the floor between them.

"Now, Severus!"

" _Confringo_!"

The mouse exploded with the impact of his expertly cast blasting-curse.

"Good, good. And the last one, again." She stood up in front of him, her head almost touching the low rafters of the attic room.

"Ma, no, I know it now, don't make me do it to you again."

" _Again_ , Severus. You are going to school and you will need to know these curses. You're going to need to stand up for yourself, you have no idea of the hell those little pureblood cunts will put you through."

Hermione balked at her harsh words towards her young son, but the child Severus seemed unconcerned. Probably why he had such a _varied_ vocabulary, she thought to herself.

" _Locomotor Mortis_!"

The leg-locker curse hit Eileen Snape and with the force of her legs crashing together, she lost balance and fell to the floor, but with a smile on her face at her son's success.

Hermione suddenly remembered a conversation where she, Ron and Harry had listened to Sirius sound off about Snape where he had told them that _Snape knew more curses when he arrived at Hogwarts at eleven that most do by the time they leave._ All of sudden, Hermione knew why. His mother had taught them to him.

Under the cover of her own magical signature so as to escape the Ministry Trace on underage magic, Eileen had equipped her son with some fine curses to throw at others, to make others fear him, to make him believe he was superior. It said a lot about the mindset he had grown up with, and she could how this would have transcended and evolved into his adult personality. My goodness, this trip in the pensieve was certainly providing her with some fresh insights.

The mist swirled again, and they were in a small bedroom with little furniture or adornment. Severus was standing in his Hogwarts robes with the green Slytherin crest, how old must he have been, fourteen, possibly? His trunk was open on his bed, and he seemed to be removing items to put away, he must have just finished school for the summer.

Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs, and they watched the teenager check his sleeve for his wand and swallow nervously. The door flew open with a crash (another facet of Severus' current demeanour that she recognised) and Tobias Snape burst into the room, older and uglier.

"You're back then, you deviant little poof?" He jeered.

"I am _not_ gay," Severus retorted, in a deep voice that had not yet broken fully, but showed obvious signs of what his gorgeously-rich adult voice would eventually sound like, his accent sounding less like his father's rough northern one and more like the affected tones of the young Slytherins with whom he mixed.

"Although it would not matter if I was, being gay isn't a crime."

"Isn't a crime? Listen to him with his fancy ideas. Anyone that prances around wearing what you've got on, waving a stick of wood, well that's a poof. A rent boy. A freak."

Severus rolled his eyes at his father's lack of knowledge.

"Did you just roll your eyes at me, boy? I'll teach you a fucking lesson or two; I don't care if you've been home five minutes or five days."

Tobias unfastened his belt and wrenched it from the loops of his trousers, folding it over and brandishing it aloft as he approached his son.

Severus whipped his wand from his sleeve, seemingly on instinct. He cast a non-verbal spell towards the belt, which was yanked from his father's hand and turned on the owner. It rained down blows upon the large man, marking him with the buckle-end, lashing him over and over until he fell to the floor and cried out.

Severus halted the belt with a wave of his hand and stood over his father.

"You will _never_ touch me again." He snarled, imperiously. "You will not come near me; you will not speak to me."

Tobias cowered under the weight of his son's glare, cradling his head with his arms, blood pouring from the many welts the beating had caused to his exposed areas of skin.

"He never did touch me again." Severus told her, quietly. "This next memory is the last one. I had just finished my sixth year, and completed the first half of my NEWT course. Summer."

 _The mist swirled._

They were back in the lounge of the dreary terraced house. What was clearly the dead body of Eileen Snape was sprawled face-down in the middle of the living room. What was also clear was that she had been dead for a good few days, and the smell was appalling.

Severus was standing in the doorway of the room in his Hogwarts robes, still holding a bag and looking pale, obviously home for the summer and having just discovered the corpse of his mother.

In a ragged armchair sat Tobias Snape, unshaven and wearing filthy clothes, a tumbler of neat scotch in his hand and two empty bottles on the table.

"Finally did it, didn't I?" He looked at his son. "Not my fault the stupid bitch didn't fight back. Thought she was supposed to be a witch. Your lot, you can't get hurt proper, can you?"

Severus' face was devoid of emotion as he dropped his bag to the floor with a thud, pulled his wand from his sleeve and raised it, pointing it towards his father.

"I hate you," he said, coldly. "I hate and despise you, Tobias Snape."

Tobias opened his mouth to respond.

 _Avada Kedavra._

The jet of green light burst from the end of Severus' wand and hit his father squarely in the chest.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Hermione jumped out of her skin at the loud crackling noise of the curse, and a split-second later, Severus yanked her out of the pensieve. They were on the sofa in their original position, the stone bowl still between them and holding hands underneath. They looked at each other, breathing heavily. She felt clammy and hot all over, and gently removed her hands from his before sending the pensieve out of the way.

"So now you know."

"You killed your father."

"I did. It was, and still is to this day, the only Unforgiveable I have cast that was of my own volition, and not at the command of someone else. I sincerely wanted him dead."

"What happened afterwards?"

"I called the muggle police. My mother had been living ostensibly as a muggle since she married him, apart from her covert lessons with me, so there was little point in contacting the Ministry. Given that I had just murdered my father with an Unforgiveable Curse it would have been imprudent for me to have involved the magical world.

The police came and completed their investigations, concluding after some time that my father had throttled my mother, before possibly suffering a fatal heart attack or killing himself. Luckily he was in such a poor physical state due to his alcohol abuse there were any numbers of factors that could have caused him to drop dead.

The bodies were removed by the authorities and given a basic muggle state burial, I had neither the money nor the inclination to hold a proper funeral, nor would there have been any mourners to attend it."

"You have no other family? No one at all?"

"I do not. My father's parents died years previously, and my mother was disowned by her family after marrying a muggle. I doubt that they are even aware of my existence, that is if they are still alive."

Hermione felt desperately sorry at the thought of him so desperately and fully alone at such a young age, and it must have shown on her face for Severus tipped up her chin and dropped a light kiss on her lips.

"No pity, remember?" he chided, gently.

A single tear rolled down her cheek.

"I can't help it. It is so very sad. I hate what happened to you."

"You do? How curious. No one has ever worried before."

"That's even sadder." She closed the gap between them by crawling across the sofa and plonking herself indelicately on his lap, folding her arms around him. She felt his body yield to the pressure of hers and he wrapped his strong arms tightly around her, turning his head and resting his cheek on the top of her head.

"What I noticed in the pensieve," she continued, talking into his chest, which was covered with his plain white shirt, "is that your mother never really touched you. For example when you were hurt, she healed you, but did not embrace you, did not offer you physical comfort. That surprised me."

"My mother was not an affectionate woman, in any sense of the word."

"But touch, Severus. It is crucial. Especially for a small child!"

There was a long pause.

"I suppose I never noticed. You do not miss what you never had."

"Well, that is one thing I _can_ remedy." She told him, sitting up in his lap and taking hold of his face between her cupped hands. "I am a very tactile person, and I intend to hug you so much you'll be begging me to leave you alone for five minutes."

He smirked at her, and it reached his eyes, lighting the black depths in a sensuous manner.

"Well then, what are you waiting for, woman?" He pulled her back down on to his chest, and wrapped his arms back tightly around her, reaching up one hand to smooth down her hair. She slid a hand up to rub his chest, tracing small circles with her forefingers on the tiny pattern of his shirt.

"Does it not bother you?" the words rumbled from his chest beneath me.

"Does what not bother me?"

"The fact that I murdered my father."

Hermione sighed.

"I cannot condone it, but nor can I condemn it. I knew you had killed, as you know I have killed too, in the course of the war. I would have no right to judge you and nor would I wish to. It does not change my feelings towards you, can we leave it at that?"

She felt his muscles relax underneath her.

"I believe that will be sufficient."

She slid down the sofa, extending her legs down the hard grey seats until her head was resting on Severus' lap, and she was looking up at him. He curled a lock of her hair around his long fingers, and laid his other hand on her stomach, stroking her gently through the red Gryffindor quidditch tshirt that annoyed him so much, although he pretended it didn't.

"What happened afterwards?"

She watched his black eyes flick towards the fire, staring into the flames as he told her more of his story.

"I magically altered my muggle birth certificate, I have both that and a magical one, to show that I was eighteen, rather than the seventeen I actually was. Being of age in the muggle world all my parents' worldly good passed to me as neither of them had a will, including the house. It is in a dirty old street called Spinners End, in a vile industrial town in the north by the name of Cokeworth.

I used the house that summer as nothing more than a place to store my belongings before I returned to Hogwarts for my seventh year that September. After that, we are going to need another trip in the pensieve."

"We can do that," she said from his lap.

"In a while," he replied. "For now I find myself content sitting here just like this, with you."

He pointed at the fire and it blazed higher, sending a wave of warmth across the room towards them. He levitated his footstool and brought it in front of the sofa where he carefully lifted his legs, careful not to disturb Hermione's head too much, and put his feet up. Resuming his gentle stroking of her hair, he rested his head on the back of the sofa and closed his eyes.

"Severus?" A soft voice came from his lap.

"Yes?" he replied, not moving from his insanely comfortable position, nor opening his eyes.

"I really like you, you know."

He paused before answering.

"I did not know that. But I am very glad I do now, Hermione. I do not believe I have ever had the pleasure of being _liked_ before."

"Well, you are now." She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the weight of his hands resting upon her.

\- xxx -

Hours later, they were sat facing each other on the sofa again, having had lunch brought by a sulking Fen before spending a long time in the pensieve perusing Severus' memories of his Hogwarts years. After a quick bit of shut-eye, he had siphoned the viewed memories of Spinners End from the pensieve, returned them to his head, and extracted many new strands of silvery mist from his mind, dropping them into the bowl one by one, before mixing them up and guiding himself and Hermione in to the pensieve once again. They were working hard today. He had shown her everything and was now awaiting her response.

She had watched as he boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time at age eleven. He had felt distinctly incongruous at Kings Cross, shabbily dressed and holding the hand of his equally shabby mother. He had changed into his school robes as soon as he had boarded the train, desperate to rid himself of the old-fashioned smock and breeches that he was forced to dress in, before setting off to find Lily Evans, his only friend in the world.

He had run afoul of James Potter and Sirius Black as soon as he encountered them on the train. They had met each other for the first time in one of the carriages and formed an unholy alliance, and Severus had realised this was his first taste of the _pureblood cunts_ his mother had spoken of, whilst she forced him to practise curse after curse so that he might be able to defend himself.

Potter and Black had mocked his second-hand robes, greasy hair and deathly pale complexion as he'd made the error of trying to join their carriage, where Lily had found herself a seat amongst other new first-years, and saving one for Severus. They had pointed out he looked half dead and wouldn't survive the journey before laughing riotously at their own humour.

Lily had been affronted on his behalf, standing up and trying to pull Severus out of the carriage, complaining loudly about the bad manners of _some people._

She hadn't managed to get him out fast enough, as a quick tongue-tying curse, flicked arrogantly from the end of his wand had shut the crowing boys up, but made him two instant enemies in the process. He had been marked from that moment on. Potter and Black were not used to being bettered by anyone and they had the skinny half-blood _weirdo_ that was inexplicably best friends with the vivacious redhead in their sights from the off.

He had shown her the Sorting, where the Hat had deliberated a long time, considering both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw before finally placing him in Slytherin. The terror of being placed in a House made up almost wholly of pureblood witches and wizards had shown on his face, and he had duly noted Potter and Black, already sorted and at the Gryffindor table with his only friend, laughing at him as they fawned over _his_ Lily Evans in an obnoxious and proprietorial manner.

They had watched Severus defend his half-blood status against members of his own House during a Care of Magical Creatures lesson, resulting in him shooting a violent Entrail-Expelling curse towards a group of Moke lizards that were the object of that day's lesson. The act had earned him a month of detentions, but the respect of darker members of his house and unfortunately the continued attentions of Potter, Black and their cohorts.

They had been joined by Remus Lupin, a tall blond boy with a deep, noticeable scar on his face, and Peter Pettigrew, a squat little shit with squinty eyes and protruding teeth. The self-styled Marauders tracked a reign of disobedience and destruction through the castle, whilst somehow remaining McGonagall's golden boys. Severus showed Hermione what they had really been; vicious bullies whose target was only him, in secret. Only when all four were together would they attack him, so scared were they of his powerful magic.

They had spent a long time in the memory of the night that Black had set him up to discover a transformed Lupin in the Shrieking Shack. Hermione had been horrified by the sheer danger of their plan, knowing that had James not had a last-minute change of heart then the werewolf would have surely killed him in cold blood where he stood.

Continuing their trawl through the memories, she had seen him begin to explore the dark arts alongside other Slytherins, most of whom had ended becoming death eaters, or supporters of Voldemort. She saw the enthusiasm spark in his eyes as he learned, reminding her of the way his mother's eyes had burned like black fire as her son mastered curse after curse.

She watched him humiliated by Bellatrix Black, who had accepted a dare from her cousin Regulus to snog the ugliest boy in Slytherin House.

She had been a seventh year to his fourth year at the time, and hadn't believed his luck when the stunning witch had set upon him in an empty common room, telling him she'd fancied him for ages before forcing her tongue into his mouth and grabbing his balls with her long-fingernailed hand. She had kissed him senseless for a good minute, before stepping back and laughing, and other members of her gang revealing themselves as audience to his stonking erection and dishevelled appearance.

He had somehow managed to talk his way out of abject humiliation by stating he was the only one who'd got a snog that night, and sitting down on one of the common room sofas in a nonchalant manner, not seeking to flee. His feigned confidence earned himself guffaws of laughter from the gathered Slytherins and the start of a close friendship with Regulus Black, who applauded him for taking on his wild cousin. By the end of the night the sofas were filled solely with those who went on to become death eaters, and Bellatrix Black had certainly been looking at him with unexpected interest.

He showed her many occasions where he had ended up in the hospital wing at the hands of the Marauders, and in the spirit of fairness, times where he had put them in there too. He was quite proud of it, really.

They watched the now infamous fight by the lake, where Potter had cast _Levicorpus_ against him, and stripped his lower half bare in front of a whole crowd of onlookers. Lily had attempted to defend him, and he had angrily insulted her, burning too hot with rage and humiliation to think clearly and choose his words more carefully.

After she had stormed off, Potter had let him fall to the ground in a heap of dirt, before destroying his trousers with an _Incendio_. Fortunately Severus was skilled enough to transfigure his undershorts into a pair of trousers, rather than walk back to the castle in only them.

He decided it was time to pull them both out of the pensieve.

\- xxx –

"The summer before that event, Lily Evans had seen fit to relieve me of my virginity, at what was now my own house in Spinners End." He said, flatly.

"Oh." She decided not to comment further on _that_ little revelation, and wondering inanely whether Harry knew that his mother had shagged Snape, before sitting hard on the tiny part of her that wanted to giggle at her new knowledge.

"I suppose that's why she was so angry. But it still seems a bit of an excessive reaction, I mean, you were clearly distraught at being exposed like that, and not thinking straight."

When Hermione put it like that, it all seemed so damn logical. He'd spent so many years castigating himself over that very incident, and she'd just blown it out of the water in two seconds flat. Lily _had_ over-reacted, and he wasn't quite sure he didn't hate her for it, considering that he had spent the following twenty years in enforced torture, trying to atone for a slip of the tongue during a moment of extreme stress. Could it really be that simple?

"What is your diagnosis, Madam Healer?" he asked her, wanting her to say something and break the silence that had ensued whilst he pondered.

She shook her head.

"I just don't know what to say. I am astounded by what you had to endure. And knowing that you returned home each summer to abuse from your father and neglect from your mother after all you suffered at school ... it is almost too much to bear. I have no idea how you _did_ bear it."

"Denial, misdirection and a variety of unhealthy coping mechanisms." He replied, drily.

"I'll say." She agreed. "Every trip we take in this pensieve I find that your personality makes more and more sense to me," she smiled, weakly.

He snorted.

"I'm serious. I think you're going to need some professional help."

"I do not need a professional. There is no wizarding equivalent to a muggle psychiatrist. I need only _you_."

"I'm not qualified, Severus. I don't want to cause you any further damage."

Such piffle, Granger. The fact that you _care_ is all the qualification you need. Now come and sit on my lap, it has been entirely too long since I last kissed you."

She crawled astride him as leaned back to make room for her, his hair falling over one eye and guiding her where he wanted her, gripping hold of her hips and seating her warmth directly on top of his clothed cock.

"Comfortable?" he drawled, rocking her hips back and forward once to bed her in place.

"Extremely, thank you," she replied, sliding her hands around his neck, under his hair and pulling his face towards hers to kiss him.

She angled his head so that she could seal her mouth to his own, and they kissed open-mouthed as he ran his hands up and down her back, moving under her tshirt to enjoy the softness of her skin against the calloused hardness of his fingers, Severus returning her kiss as eagerly as she was delivering it.

He reluctantly drew away, muttering that he could not allow them to get too carried away as he was expected in Great Hall for dinner that evening, followed by the night patrol duties.

Hermione sat back on his knees with a mock-pout.

"Whatever shall I do without you here?"

"I am sure you will find something to occupy you, little witch, and I shall be ardently pleased to see you when I return. Do you wish me to order you some dinner from Fen?"

"No, that's fine; I'm not really that hungry, we had breakfast and lunch quite late. We could have a late snack when you return, some cheese and wine perhaps?"

"That does sound appealing, but I must warn you that I am generally rather late back from patrol, depending on the number of foolish students who attempt to break curfew or cause riots."

"It's fine. Let's just see what time you get back. I'll be waiting."

"Witch, it is that thought that will carry me through the next few hours." He leaned forward and pressed a final hard kiss to her lips, before tumbling her off his lap and standing up, adjusting the crotch of his trousers around an uncomfortable erection.

"Will you save that for me later?" she asked, cheekily, eyeing the tempting bulge.

"You will be the absolute death of me, Hermione. I'm trying to encourage it to go down, which cannot happen if it is thinking about _later_." He gave her a stern look which only made her smile more.

He sat down at the small dining table to pull on his boots, before standing to tie a white cravat under the open neck of his shirt before fastening it all the way. He took his black frock coat from the stand and put it on, doing it up fully from top to bottom, before pulling his flowing teaching robes over the top and settling them in the correct place. She watched him intently enjoying the sight of him dressing, rather than undressing as she usually saw him.

Raking a hand through his hair and unconsciously pulling himself up to stand straighter, he was in full billowing Professor Snape mode.

"I shouldn't be finding you as attractive as I do right now." She teased. "I feel like you're about to deduct housepoints for my incorrect uniform."

He looked down his long nose at her, in a purposeful impression of his classroom persona.

"Miss Granger, I sincerely hope you are not entertaining thoughts of an inappropriate nature about your professor?"

"I thought _you_ were supposed to be the Legilimens?" she shot back, concentrating hard on a vision of Severus shagging her across one of the classroom workbenches dressed exactly as he was now, and was satisfied when she felt him touch against her mind and view the image.

"Filthy girl. You will pay for that later."

"I look forward to it."

He gave her a look that was impossibly sexy, annoyed and tender all at once, before turning and unwarding the door before sweeping out of it. She heard him place the ward back on it as it closed behind him. Good idea, she didn't want any unexpected visitors while he was gone.

\- xxx -

Severus sat at high table, completely uninterested in the meal, the students and the assembled company of the other teachers. Stepping out of his dungeon cocoon that he shared with Hermione felt like another world right at that moment and he felt quite reluctant to leave it, finding himself a little disorientated. He couldn't wait to get this evening over with so that he could return to the little witch he had hidden in his chambers.

Faith Burbage seemed quite at home at the teachers table, conversing amicably with Aurora Sinistra, and possibly trying to ignore the sleazy Gregory Mollins on her other side. He had caught her eye once and nodded a greeting, but that had been their only contact.

Dinner was served, and he found that he couldn't taste any of it, and merely went through the motions of consuming his repast. He put his hand over his goblet as the bottles travelled down the table pouring wine for the professors, something that did not go unnoticed by Minerva, whom he caught watching him out of the corner of her sharp eyes. Why that woman could not piss off and leave him alone he had no idea.

He had seen the surprise register on her face when he had entered the Great Hall for dinner, clearly she had not expected him to arrive as requested, and he picked up on a slight note of annoyance in her demeanour, as if she suspected him of something but had now been proved wrong.

After dinner began the interminable night rounds, the constant pacing of the castle between the four common rooms, checking for students out of bed, problems, illness, disasters, fights, and whatever other problem may arise between teenagers who should just go to sodding bed rather than fuck around trying to evade the staff on patrol.

By ten o'clock he had broken up two fledgling fights, sent six students to the hospital wing for various trivial ailments, stemmed the nosebleed of a Ravenclaw first-year, ousted no less than five couples from concealed and well-known illicit snogging areas around the castle, and was well ready to return to Hermione as the curfew bell had sounded over an hour ago.

As he began the long walk through the echoing corridors back to the common room he heard noises of a distinctly sexual nature behind one of the heavy tapestries that covered the many not-so-secret alcoves dotted around the castle. These two were clearly doing far more than snogging.

He walked silently towards the tapestry before speaking in his low, threatening voice that was sure to strike cold fear into the hearts of the miscreants.

"I suggest that you cease your activities forthwith for you are both out of your common room after curfew. You have exactly one minute to clothe yourselves and get out here before I pull back this tapestry and drag you out."

"Oh, fuck off, Severus."

He flung back the embroidered wall hanging and was greeted by the unedifying sight of the hairy buttocks of Gregory Mollins impaling the new professor Burbage against the wall. By the flushed look on her face and the sounds she had been making, she was there by choice and not force. He felt slightly nauseous.

Raising an imperious eyebrow towards the shagging pair, he cast his eye over the tableau he had found them in.

"Well, Professor Burbage. You certainly didn't waste any time, did you? What an uninspired choice though."

"Piss off back to your dungeon, Snape," spluttered Mollins. "She's here with me, you missed out. Too late old boy."

"How very little you understand, Mollins," Severus drawled cryptically, "And how very little you understand about silencing charms. Might I suggest applying one to this alcove before you both reach completion? No doubt it will sound like two rampaging hippogriffs in mating season."

With that, he flung the tapestry back across the alcove and continued his stalk back down to the dungeons, his black cloak billowing behind in the wake of his silent steps.

\- xxx -

Shaking off the unpleasant memory of his colleague's arse, Severus entered his living room to find it pleasantly warm and bathed in the soft light of the fire. He removed his outer clothing and boots before walking further into the room to find Hermione had made herself a nest in front of the fireplace, using the piles of pillows and blankets they had used the previous week.

She was fast asleep in a sprawled position on her back with a book purloined from his own shelf across her chest, dressed in her little vest and pyjama shorts, with those infernal fluffy socks on her feet. He stood and looked at her, glowing golden in the flickering light of the fire. How the hell did he get so lucky?

He sat down at her feet, positioning himself between the end of her nest and the sofa, leaning back against its supportive frame. He reached out a hand and began to stroke her smooth leg, soon adding his other hand to the other limb. Once he was sure he had awakened her a little so as not to startle her, he pulled off the socks and began to massage her feet, pressing his thumbs into tender spots and eliciting a pleasured sigh from her that inspired him to increase his efforts.

As he rubbed, he moved his hands slightly upwards, gradually including her ankles and lower legs in his attentions. She began to stir properly, blearily opening her eyes.

"Mmm, Severus? You're back. That feels amazing."

"You are welcome. Just relax and enjoy, I have a debt to pay, remember?"

She _did_ remember.

She closed her eyes again, stretching her arms up towards the fire and enjoying the heat of the flames against her bare skin. The feel of his strong hands massaging her feet and legs was sheer bliss and she was more than happy to allow him to continue unhindered. He continued up onto her thighs, rubbing more deeply now, pressing his fingers into her muscles and releasing all the knots and tension she didn't release she was carrying there.

She felt his fingers brush the hem of her shorts, and knew what was coming. Oh yes.

"I'm sorry, but these are entirely too much in the way for what I have planned for you, little witch."

He grabbed hold of the material and pulled her shorts down her legs, tossing them to one side before folding his arms around her knees and pulling her firmly down the floor towards him, so her crotch was almost level with his, one leg either side of his waist in a perfect position for his seeking hands and fingers as he leaned back against the sofa frame. She couldn't help but let out a moan of anticipation.

"Oh yes, Hermione, I like to know that you like it. Don't hold back when I touch you. I cannot wait to watch you, my sweet girl."

His eager fingers dipped between her legs, softly stroking her cleft up and down, making her shiver, before sliding both his palms flat on top of her, pushing her thighs open and spreading her fully to his searching eyes, and he stopped and stared at her glistening lushness wide open to him. _Merlin,_ what a sight. He felt himself begin to harden inside the confines of his trousers, but this was about her, not him, and he applied himself to the task in hand.

Using all of his fingers and both his thumbs, he dipped inside her inner labia to hold her open and spread her even wider, searching out every inch of her to examine. He trailed a finger down every new fold that he opened, causing her to buck with each stroke.

"Oh Hermione," he breathed, "so much you have hidden for me to explore. I cannot wait to touch every part of you. We are in no rush, lie back and enjoy, don't chase it, just let yourself come when you are ready."

He was rewarded by little pants and gasps, and he watched as her stomach clenched with arousal. _Fuck_ , he was enjoying this.

Keeping her spread, he began to circle one finger around the entrance to her vagina, maddeningly slowly, enjoying the wetness that was beginning to collect there. While he did this, he used another finger on his other hand to just tickle the tip of her clitoris, no more than a slight aggravation of the bud, but enough to make her inhale sharply and fist up handfuls of the blankets and cushions beneath her that she rested comfortably on.

Pushing his finger gently inside her, she was so wet that he added a second straight away, twisting and curling as if trying to pull out her pleasure. He began to increase the pressure on her clit, adding his thumb to the finger already there and starting to roll the hardening bud between them, stretching the nub outwards, encouraging it to swell even further.

He could see she was starting to lose it and that it would not be too much longer until she threw herself over the edge, despite his entreaty to lay back and relax. He allowed his little finger to slip down to her back opening, not pushing in but just pressing around the entrance. At first she bucked away, but soon realised he was not taking it further and started to enjoy the unfamiliar sensation.

"Oh, _Severus_ ..." she panted, and his name on her lips was music to his ears. When had anyone ever called his such with such passion and pleasure at his touch?

He grabbed a firm hold of her small clitoris and wiggled it around in a circle, increasing the speed until he was sure every synapse of her body was focused on that one bud of nerves he held between his thumb and fingers. As he felt her begin to come, he pulled on her clit, feeling it pulse on his fingertips.

She screamed, and her juices flooded his hand as she came, her stomach heaving with the contractions of the powerful orgasm. He was utterly transfixed by her face, her sounds, her smell as she came apart under his hands, her thighs shaking and trembling.

He kept his fingers where they were, slowing his movements until he was only touching her, not moving at all, soaking up the delicious feel of her sex as it pulsed and began to calm.

"Oh." She breathed. " _Oh, fucking hell._ That was so fucking good."

"Eloquent as always." He chided, but secretly basking in her praise.

"I don't care." She smiled, her eyes closed, still half lost in post-orgasmic pleasure. "Come down here, hold me, please?"

He sent a discreet _Tergeo_ to his hands and her pussy before scrambling forwards to wrap himself around her in the nest of blankets and cushions.

" _Mmm_ , yes. Nice and close." She snuggled into him. "I fucking love you, Severus Snape, did you know that? You are one fucking _amazing_ wizard and _I fucking love you."_

He opened his eyes wide in shock, lifting his head up to look at her and to check whether there were any empty wine bottles in the vicinity that might have caused her to make such a declaration.

Her eyes were still closed and she looked as if she had fallen completely asleep in an instant, leaving her words potent in the air.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

The following morning, Hermione was sitting on a stool at a wide bench in Severus' private laboratory, listening intently as he outlined and demonstrated the compounds and possible uses of the advanced variant of the Wolfsbane potion that he was currently researching. He had allowed her to leaf through his notebook, a meticulously-kept document of parchments full of his spiky script bound in leather, which outlined his research, theories, successes and failures thus far.

As she read and absorbed, he was creating another batch of the potion in order to demonstrate the very particular way it needed to be brewed in order to avoid accidental contamination, and the potential for brewer error in both the ingredient quantities and the precise order of addition to the cauldron.

She covertly watched him as he worked, eyes flicking up from the book every so often to see him meticulously chopping ingredients into the most uniformly accurate sizes, leaning over the hot cauldron to inspect the brew while tendrils of hot steam blew up onto his face giving him a rosy pink colour and doing crazy things with his hair that soon began to lay lank and damp. He had rolled his shirtsleeves up and on a purely physical level she was enjoying watching the defined muscles in his forearms twist and curl beneath his skin as he performed complex movements, his superior skill evident in his every move.

She really did find him bloody attractive, if not in a conventional sense. But she had never been a witch that looked for the ordinary. He had quite literally brought her to a screaming orgasm with his fingers alone last night, demanding nothing in return, and she had ended up flopped in a boneless heap of bliss, unable to control her own tongue as she'd gibbered repeatedly how much she loved him, which was a bit of a mistake.

She certainly had the loved the physical attention and at that moment did she feel love, hell, _yes_. As to whether she was _in_ love with him, she wasn't yet sure, and definitely not sure enough to make a declaration that might harm his fragile self-esteem. She had never been in love before and therefore it was somewhat difficult to make an appropriate call on the matter.

They had awoken after a couple of hours sleep in front of the fire and transferred to the bedchamber, Severus putting on his pyjamas and her retrieving the discarded shorts of hers, before wrapping themselves around each other in the centre of the large four-poster bed as was becoming their habit. No words had been exchanged but he had kissed her forehead tenderly before settling back down to sleep.

In the morning they had languished a while in bed, cuddled up and just enjoying the feeling of being holed up together and having the day ahead. They'd had breakfast brought in on a tray by a mollified Fen, who appeared back to normal after his tizzy the previous day, before heading for the bathroom.

They had showered together before heading for the laboratory, Hermione taking the opportunity to thoroughly wash his hair for him, which he appeared to love and she spent a long time scratching and massaging his scalp before rinsing every bit of the soap residue from his raven head. Now that she had yesterday's pensieve memories, she realised how much he craved and needed physical touch, in any way, not just sexually, whether or not he was able to articulate that need.

He had not mentioned what she'd said. The love bit. So there was no way she was going to bring it up. How embarrassing.

Severus stirred the volatile potion in the cauldron using a long glass rod, counting loudly in his head so as not to become distracted by the unusual presence of another person in his laboratory whilst he brewed. He had given Hermione his notebook to read, which felt like tantamount to giving her his private diary. The advanced Wolfsbane was a brew of his own creation, it was not yet perfected but he found himself very willing to share his research with her. He half-wondered if her brilliant mind would be able to pick up on something he'd missed, some small detail that had been overlooked that would enable him to complete and possibly market the potion.

He knew she was sneaking peeks at him while he worked, she really did have the Gryffindor subtlety of a brick when it came to hiding her feelings and intentions. He found himself curiously pleased that she would _want_ to look at him, and his masculine pride wanted to impress her.

They had passed an extraordinarily pleasant morning, just lolling in his bed before showering, where she'd washed his hair again and he had found it an insanely sensual experience, both erotic _and_ tender at the same time, although he was now undoing all her hard work by repeatedly poking his head into the curtain of steam that was emanating from the cauldron.

He had not forgotten what she had said to him in front of the fire the previous evening, and he doubted that she had either, but for some reason she seemed disinclined to mention it, so he followed her lead and said nothing. It was likely she had just spouted off as part of her post-orgasm comedown, he had been known to get a bit loose-lipped himself when he'd just come spectacularly, so it wouldn't be fair of him to hold her to anything she'd said. He opted to put the matter out of his mind unless she brought it up again.

\- xxx -

A few hours later, the potion was complete and cooling whilst Hermione and Severus ate a sandwich lunch surrounded by loose parchments covered in scribblings. Hermione was most excited by the potential his new potion had to possibly revolutionise the treatment of lycanthropy.

The current Wolfsbane potion, only available to werewolves who could afford it since the ingredients were prohibitively expensive, was a crude medicine that could only be taken freshly brewed and warm from a smoking goblet. It allowed werewolves to retain their own minds after transformation and provide a sedative effect, allowing them to harmlessly secrete themselves somewhere and sleep until they returned to their human form thus reducing the potential for a transformed werewolf to attack whilst not of sound mind.

Using knowledge that he had acquired whilst working closely with Remus Lupin the year he had taught at Hogwarts, brewing the Wolfsbane for him each month, Severus had developed and refined the potion to almost unrecognisable levels.

The base potion remained unchanged, the poison aconite needed to render the brew effective. However as the result of his detailed and laborious research, Severus had managed to blend and add compounds that would enable the potion to be stored without losing its effectiveness, hence allowing it to be purchased in bulk and stored until needed.

"One of the main drawbacks of Wolfsbane potion is that because it must be drunk fresh and smoking from the cauldron the werewolf needs to either brew it themselves or to be in close proximity to the brewer," Severus explained. "Lupin did not have the skill to brew it himself, for it is a notoriously difficult potion, nor the financial wherewithal to purchase the ingredients. I believe that he only agreed to take the Defence position at Hogwarts that year because Dumbledore assured him of an unlimited supply of Wolfsbane. Without asking me first if I was willing to find the additional hours to brew it every month, obviously."

"But yet you brewed it perfectly for him, every month. Despite ... you know, despite everything I saw in the pensieve. His behaviour towards you."

"I did. I strive for nothing but excellence in potions and the recipient was less of a concern to me than brewing a complicated potion repeatedly and without error. It matters little now, but Lupin was always less foul to me than Potter and Black, the beast did indeed have a soul."

Severus listened keenly while Hermione explained her efforts to bring about changes in the legislation for werewolf regulation and control. She told him how she had begun working with a colleague to research whether the current laws were effective, and in the process they had uncovered a systematic bias against the werewolves, who were after all, human witches and wizards who had suffered a tragic attack and were being penalised for their condition.

She told him how they intended to cite the cases of current in-patients at St Mungo's who had, for reasons of various accidents or attacks suffered brain damage, physical conditions or mental illness that had made them unstable. These patients were cared for at the cost of the Ministry, without discrimination. They wanted to argue that werewolves were no different to these patients, and deserved support, care and treatment rather than persecution and prohibitive laws that forced them to live in poverty, when all most werewolves wanted to do was work and support themselves and their families.

"Your reasoning is admirable," he replied, at length. "But you realise you will find yourself up against years of prejudice, years of ingrained fear that will not be easily overturned."

"I know that. But just because something may be difficult does not mean that I shouldn't try."

"You are remarkable, Hermione." He sighed, impressed by her enthusiasm but weighed down by realism.

She gestured around his lab.

" _You_ are the remarkable one. Look what you have created! May I please cite your research in the presentation of our findings? I think that this could be the breakthrough Esther and I have been looking for. If your potion works as you predict, it can be brewed in bulk and stored at St Mungo's, and also by local healers. Werewolves are already registered, we know who and where they are. Monthly administration of the advanced Wolfsbane could be magically recorded, and afflicted persons can take proof of their status to employers, reducing the fear that their transformations could prove a danger in the workplace. The cost should be borne by the Ministry in the same way as they fund treatment for other conditions."

"I applaud your enthusiasm, and of course my research is yours to present as you wish, I would deny you nothing. However it matters little if the potion cannot be distributed to those who need it."

"Why would it not be distributed?"

"I think that aside from the cost, you will find the Ministry unwilling to deal with _me_."

She was about to ask why on earth not, and then recognised the anguished look on his face. There would be many people who would not trust Severus Snape, known user of the dark arts, death eater, failed headmaster, spy. His reputation no doubt preceded him wherever he went. She remembered with guilt her own reaction to seeing him back at high table when she returned to Hogwarts for her final term following the end of the war. She had been shocked to see him, and wondered how he had dare return. The memory shamed her and sent a flush to her face.

"And that is why," he said quietly, sparing her the pain of explaining herself. Perhaps he had been able to hear her thoughts.

She hopped up off her stool and walked towards where he was perched on his own, one leg on the wooden step and the other steadying himself on the floor. She slipped her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder. Sometimes when words failed, touch could say what you were unable to voice.

\- xxx -

"I will see you on Friday?" He cupped her face between his large hands.

"Same place, same time." She smiled.

Hermione ghosted a final kiss goodbye on Severus' lips before turning into the Floo. They had worked in the lab until the last possible moment, both intently absorbed in the potion and its implications. She had in her bag copies of his research, without giving details of the exact ingredients or process lest they be revealed before he applied for a wizarding patent which she had encouraged him to do, despite his reticence.

She tumbled through the Floo and emerged into the kitchen of the Burrow. Molly and Arthur were sat at the kitchen table eating, and she realised she had returned home much later than the previous week. Molly jumped up immediately and began to ladle Hermione up a plate of dinner.

"Molly, please don't, let me. Thank you so much for cooking." She took over serving her plate and Molly returned to the table and her own dinner as Hermione joined them.

"Good weekend, Hermione?" Molly enquired just as she took a large mouthful of stew, effectively rendering her incapable of replying as she tossed the too-hot chunk of beef around in her mouth so she just nodded.

"Hermione, we'd like to discuss something with you, if you don't mind?" Arthur said, looking at her seriously across the table. Oh crap. She had suspected he knew she was lying when she left the Ministry atrium on Friday.

"Not at all, go ahead," she choked out, having finally managed to swallow her mouthful.

Molly took over the reins of the conversation.

"My dear, when we invited you to live with us, we didn't expect you to answer to us as parents, although I can't deny we see you as an extra daughter. You are a delight to have living here in the Burrow; you are tidy and pay us far more than you need in way of your food and board. But you are not answerable to us, Hermione, do you understand? You are well above age and may come and go as you please."

Hermione felt hugely guilty.

"I am so very sorry," she said, earnestly. "I think we all know I wasn't with a colleague this weekend."

"Like Molly said," Arthur cut in, gently, "your life and your decisions are your own. We just didn't want you to feel that you have to hide anything, or make excuses. Quite honestly love, your private life is nothing to do with us and you should not feel obliged to tell us anything."

"I ... am seeing someone," she admitted.

Molly smiled indulgently.

"We had gathered as much. You forget we have raised seven children, Hermione, there is not much that can get past us, no matter how dotty we might seem at times."

Hermione let out an audible sigh of relief.

"I was just worried that you might think it was too soon, spending weekends with someone I've just met."

"Even if we did think that, which we don't, it would not be one bit our business. You are an attractive, intelligent young witch with your life ahead of you. Enjoy every moment, and know that if you are ever in difficulty or have a problem, Arthur and I will always be here to help you."

At that Arthur rose from the table, squeezing her hand in agreement. Molly turned her chair to face Hermione.

"Love, tell me to mind my own, but I just wanted to ask, you are protected aren't you? I would not have thought that you were ready for children yet, a bright witch like you." Mrs Weasley went a little red as she asked.

"I am, don't worry." Hermione smirked internally as she opted not to tell Molly that Severus Snape was personally brewing her contraceptive potion since she was currently shagging him.

"Thank goodness," Molly smiled. "Not that I doubted you, dear, you were always the responsible one. I just cannot imagine what chaos an unplanned pregnancy would cause."

With a start, Hermione remembered Ron and his situation. It had temporarily slipped her mind. She felt suddenly very sorry for his mother, who had her first grandchild growing somewhere inside an unknown witch, a baby Weasley whom she would never meet.

"Anyway!" Molly said brightly, getting up from the table and sending the dishes to wash in the large kitchen sink, "As long as you're here next week, dear, we're having a birthday party for Ron and everyone is here for the whole weekend. Why don't you bring your young man?"

 _Because my young man is an old professor who you all hate_ , thought Hermione.

"Oh goodness, I totally forgot. Yes of course I'll be here, wouldn't miss it for the world." She replied, with a wholly forced tone of gaiety. "My, er, boyfriend is working next weekend so he won't be available, but I'm sure you'll meet him another time."

Not wanting to tell anymore _outright_ lies, she ducked away and up the stairs before Molly could ask her any more awkward questions.

Stumbling through the door of her room, she locked it firmly behind her before immediately summoning parchment and quill to write to Severus.

 _Severus_

 _I have just been advised by Molly Weasley that they are throwing a party for Ronald's birthday next weekend. I_ have _to be here, everyone is coming home for the weekend, there is no way I can get out of it, plus as much as I want to be with you, I do want to be here too, with my friends._

 _I realise the above is a bit garbled and rambling, but please don't think it is in any way a rejection of you. The time we spend together is precious and I can't wait to see you again._

 _It will be the start of the Easter holidays the following week, do you have plans?_

 _Might some of them involve me?_

 _Yours_

 _Hermione_

She folded up the letter and left the bedroom to search for an owl to deliver it. The Weasleys had a number of family owls that had belonged to the children in their school days and used the Burrow as freely as the human occupants did.

Grabbing hold of Pigwidgeon as the little owl fluttered past her bedroom door she quickly tied the letter to his leg and told him where to deliver it, instructing him not to come back without a reply. This was likely to annoy Severus, whom she had no doubt would brood over her message and somehow perceive it to be his own fault, but at least she could be assured that her missive had been received.

\- xxx -

Severus was suffering his way through Sunday evening dinner at high table, already mourning the departure of Hermione and dreading the cloying tedium of Monday morning. He would return to his chambers which would be dark and cold, and not just due to the lack of fire and candles. Hermione was like a tangible warmth that permeated every corner of his quarters. _Like a ray of sunshine,_ he thought to himself, before scoffing at his own witless analogy.

He was forced to stay behind after the meal with the other three Heads of House to discuss some concerns Minerva had regarding students hiding alcohol within the common rooms, so by the time he started back to the dungeons the corridors were deserted. Just as he liked it.

He entered his classroom and was startled to find Faith Burbage sitting at his desk.

"Faith?" he questioned, rather unnecessarily since the woman was in front of him. "What are you doing in here?"

"You don't want me here?"

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose; he did not have the time nor the inclination for this kind of game-playing. He dropped his voice to the slow, threatening tone that he generally used in the classroom.

"I asked you a question. It would be customary for you to answer that before asking one of your own."

He watched the confidence in her face visibly drop a notch, although she did rise from the desk and walk across the classroom towards him, perching on the end of one of the student workbenches. There was something in the way she was looking at him that made him uncomfortable but he gave nothing away in his demeanour.

"I'm aware that you caught me a compromising position last night, Severus."

"We both already know this, " he sneered.

"I wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea about me."

"I am not sure why you would care what I think about you."

"I'm not the sort of witch who lifts her skirts for the first wizard she sees."

He barked out an unpleasant laugh.

"Your actions madam, beg to differ. Or was that a different witch I saw being taken roughly by Gregory Mollins? The vision of his unpleasantly hirsute buttocks are imprinted on my eyeballs."

"You don't understand ..."

He held up his hand to stop her. "I do not wish to understand. I do not care whom you fuck. I wish you a very pleasant time here at Hogwarts, Professor Burbage. Now, if there a reason you are here in my classroom kindly state it forthwith, or leave."

"I just wanted to explain about Gregory."

"There is nothing you need explain. I could not be less interested in his sex life, or yours. Now if you shall excuse me I have work to do."

He swept through the classroom towards the dais that led to his chambers, unwarding the door quickly and stepping through closing it fast behind him, leaving her to see herself out.

As he reapplied the ward to the door, a small owl was forcing its way through the high window at the top of the wall, a parchment tied to its leg. He collected it from the owl before sitting down at the table and unfolding the scroll to see Hermione's neat handwriting and gave it no more than a cursory read.

 _Fuck._

He stood up and balled the parchment and threw it across the room, before kicking his wooden dining chair over in a fit of pique, startling the owl which flew out of the window in a fright. Unsatisfied, he upended the table, sending it crashing on to the stone floor.

He snatched up his decanter of firewhisky from the sideboard, pulled the stopper and lifted it to his mouth, tipping the burning liquid down his throat without even thinking about stopping for a glass. He needed to get drunk, very drunk, very fast.

Anything to take away the unidentifiable, searingly painful emotion that was making it hard for him to breathe.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Severus did not reply to Hermione's owl that night. Instead he spent three full hours in the infirmary under the care of Madam Pomfrey after clenching the decanter stopper so hard it shattered in his hand, lacerating his palm deeply in many places.

Realising that he was not going to be able to heal himself due to the injury being to his wand hand, accompanied by the rather alarming blood loss, he slammed down the partially-drunk decanter and stomped angrily into the Floo which spat him out in the hospital wing.

He strode towards the medi-witch in her corner office; who came flying out into the ward as she was somehow pre-programmed to do whenever Severus Snape walked into the infirmary dripping in blood.

Ushering him into a side room that was used for staff to facilitate their privacy whenever students were present she nudged him down to sit on the metal bed so she could examine his injured hand.

"Whatever have you been doing, Severus?" she asked, smelling the unmistakable aroma of neat firewhisky on his breath.

"None of your business," he growled, "just do your job. I cannot heal myself, this being my wand hand."

"Now Severus, you know that caustic attitude is not going to work with me. What has happened, and more importantly, why? I'm willing to bet on Merlin's beard that it has something to do with that witch you deny you are sleeping with."

Severus looked up in surprise, catching Poppy's mischievous smirk that actually reassured him that his injury was most probably not all that serious if she was teasing him. He explained that he had been angry and managed to shatter a solid glass decanter stopper in his hand, causing the injury.

"And the witch?" Poppy pressed, not willing to let up, thinking that in a vulnerable state he may be more likely to open up to her. She really should have been a Slytherin.

"I do not know what you are talking about." He answered; his expression fixed and stubborn.

"Liar."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Liar. And you know it. Why not share, Severus? Everything you say to me is confidential; I'm magically bound to keep your secrets. It may help to talk?"

He scoffed.

"I doubt it. But since you insist, and since we both know you are aware of my current ... extra-curricular activities, yes I am angry and yes it was indeed due to an owl I have just received from her."

"What did she say? Has she thrown you over?"

He thought for a moment. What had she actually said? No, she had not said anything about throwing him over, just something about not being able to see him the following weekend due to Weasley's birthday, some fantastic affair that _everyone_ was invited to. Not that he expected to be invited and not that he would wish to go ... but he disliked knowing that he had to teach for a week knowing that he was not going to receive Hermione as his prize at the end of it.

"We have been meeting ... every weekend." He muttered, before exhaling a resigned sigh and preparing to reveal far more than he planned.

Poppy made very sure that he could not see the smirk on her face as he began to talk, staying very quiet lest she interrupt this unexpected openness.

"When she left me earlier today, our plans were to meet next weekend. Since she returned home she has sent me an owl telling me there is a party planned for friends and family members and she is expected to attend, so she cannot see me. She also said she wanted to attend it."

There was a pause, and Poppy looked at him expectantly. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Was that it?" she asked.

"That and she asked me what my plans were for the Easter holidays and whether they involved her." He replied in a very uncharacteristic mumble.

Poppy began to snicker.

"I fail to see what is funny, Madam." He told her, with a disgusted look on his face.

"Oh Severus. You silly boy. I really cannot see what there is to be so angry about. You are simply disappointed you won't be seeing her this weekend, nothing more sinister than that.

You clearly like her very much and will miss her, but from what you have said it seems like she simply has another commitment next weekend but her long-term plans include you if she's mentioning where to spend the Easter hols."

Severus gave her a sour look as if she'd insisted he drink a pint of hippogriff piss.

"Don't you give me that look. You are an intelligent wizard, at least, I have always presumed you to be. Just admit to yourself you've thrown a whopper of a tantrum that you can't have her this weekend, then write back to the poor girl and tell her you'll miss her but wish her a good time at the party."

She paused, and Severus made to jump into the conversational gap with his own opinion but she neatly cut him off, waggling her finger in his face, which made him close his mouth abruptly and grind his teeth in annoyance.

"And then, continue your letter by suggesting some plans for the Easter holidays. And for Merlin's sake, do ensure those plans are _outside_ of Hogwarts. You can't lock a witch away in your chambers forever and expect her not to get bored. Even _you_ are not that interesting, Severus, however skilled you are with your wand."

She eyed his crotch and winked, her eyes gleaming with mischief, and he could not help but blush nor stop a smirk crooking the corner of one side of his mouth.

" _There_ it is." She grinned, continuing to heal the nasty cuts on his hand, having removed all the fragments of thick glass that he had managed to embed there; pleased at eliciting a positive reaction at last.

Severus scowled. Bloody woman had caught his moment of weakness like a salivating Niffler finding some treasure. She was very likely correct, but it didn't stem the feeling of utter dread at the thought of a working week without seeing Hermione at the end of it. The last three weekends had been like none he had ever known.

"I suppose since you presume to know everything about my life already there can be no harm in my seeking your further counsel," Severus began. "I find myself somewhat discombobulated that I cannot see her next weekend. She said she would come, and now she tells me she cannot."

"Oh Severus! That's just life, things like that happens all the time!"

"Not to me they don't."

"Identify the emotion for what it is; disappointment. It's not the end of the world. And you clearly like this witch very much for her to be having this kind of effect on you. You don't normally allow anyone to penetrate that ice cold exterior to find out the softness that I know for a fact you have within."

There was a long pause while he digested this information.

"I do."

"You do, what?"

"I do like her. Far more than I should have allowed myself to do."

"What on earth are you blabbering on about now?"

"I do not have friends, Poppy. You should know that better than most. I find this witch occupying most of my waking thoughts."

"You know that is completely normal, don't you?"

"Not for me."

"Well then it is high time for a change. Enjoy this, Severus. Do you know how long I have wished that you would find a young lady to love?"

"I do not love her."

"Not _yet_ , anyway." Poppy grinned, binding his hand in a white bandage. He shot her a vicious glare, which as usual just bounced off the thick skin of the old medi-witch. There was not much that scared her, particularly not the dark looks of Severus Snape.

"That will hold you. No permanent damage and you should escape any scarring."

"As if that would be a concern to me."

"Away with you. Lay off the firewhisky, get to bed and ..." she paused, unsure whether she should share a concern that had been niggling at her like a toothache since Saturday evening's dinner in the Great Hall.

"and what? Speak."

"Severus, I know that you can take care of yourself; but please be alert around that new Professor. She was shooting you some very indiscreet looks at high table last night."

"I did not notice?"

"No, you wouldn't have done, you were off in your own little world, but I noticed. A wizard is never more attractive than when he is clearly unavailable, some witches see it as a challenge."

"How preposterous. There is no way she could know I am unavailable."

"I don't mean she would know. I mean that you in your very demeanour are aloof, detached and unwilling to engage, especially with new people, and you are a darkly attractive wizard, whether you believe that or not. Faith Burbage does not know you, and I fear she is a very different kettle of fish to our dear Charity, a very different personality."

"I shall heed your warning; however I am certain that your suspicions are groundless, but nonetheless thank you for your concern. And for this." He finished, raising his newly wrapped hand.

"You are welcome, young man. Tomorrow make sure you send an owl in reply to your little witch. And leave that bandage on until the morning." She told him, briskly clearing the bed before shooing him towards the fireplace and thinking how very unusual it was for Severus Snape to say _thank you._

\- xxx –

During the lunch hour the following day, Severus eschewed the noisy chaos that was luncheon in the Great Hall and took a brisk walk into Hogsmeade as he had a very specific purchase to make.

Entering Scrivenshafts, the shop that sold quills and other stationery, he purchased a set of charmed notebooks, a canny little product that allowed two regular correspondents to communicate without the need for constant owls flying back and forth.

He had come up with the idea after a largely sleepless night thinking about Hermione, and how best to stay in contact with her. As much as hated to admit it, Poppy had been correct and his reaction to her owl had been petulant at best, downright poor at worst. He was exceptionally glad that Hermione would never know.

The charmed notebooks were a favourite of students to use in class, to write notes to a friend behind the teacher's watchful eye. Not that anyone ever got away with it during Potions. He planned to wrap one of the books and send it with a school owl later on that evening, there was no point in sending an owl to the Ministry as owls were banned from there now and the parcel would end up in a main sorting room where there was the potential for it to get lost.

No, he would send it to her at the Weasley residence where she would receive it directly, along with an apology for his tardy reply. He certainly wasn't looking forward to _that_ bit.

During afternoon classes he thought on Pomfrey's warning about Faith Burbage. It seemed a most odd thing for her to say. Perhaps witches were wiser to one another's intentions that wizards were? Faith had certainly made him feel uncomfortable by lurking in his classroom like she was lying in wait for him to return, but this was more because he did not know why she was there rather than any of her actual actions.

It mattered not. He was not interested in the new professor in any way, even if there had been no Hermione, because firstly he kept relations with his colleagues strictly professional, and secondly, he had no desire to stick his cock anywhere that Gregory Mollins had been first. He actually shuddered at the thought. He really was going to have to obliviate that memory from his mind; he had no desire to see that man's hairy arse ever again.

\- xxx –

 _Hermione_

 _Please find enclosed a gift, I have no doubt that you recognise what it is, although I suspect you yourself were never guilty of using one in class._

 _I have its twin, and rest assured it will remain in my sole possession at all times._

 _SS_

 _Severus!_

 _I love the notebook, thank you so much! Testing, testing – is this message appearing in your book?_

 _Hermione_

...

 _Hermione, it is indeed. Good Evening to you._

~ How exciting, I just watched your message appear on my page in your handwriting as if you were writing it in front of me!

 _That is the general idea of these books._

~ Snarky, snarky.

 _You know me._

~ I do. How are you, Severus? How was your day?

 _Unrelentingly tedious. And yours?_

~ Surprisingly good. Esther was in paroxysms of happiness over your Wolfsbane research.

 _I am glad to hear it. I have requested the paperwork to file a patent, at your insistence._

~ Good. Trust me; you are going to want to have a patent on that potion once I've finished selling it to the Ministry.

 _I am still sceptical._

~ I would expect nothing less.

 _I apologise for not replying to your owl last night._

~ That's ok. I was worried you might have reacted badly to it.

 _You could say that_.

~ Oh.

 _I regret that you are involved with someone as emotionally unstable as myself._

~ I don't. Regret it, I mean.

 _I am glad of that._

~ You know I am going to really miss seeing you this weekend, don't you Severus?

 _I do now._

~ You knew it anyway.

 _Perhaps I did._

...

 _How was the party?_

~ It was wonderful. Harry, Neville, Seamus, Dean and a host of other Gryffindor alumni all descended on the Burrow. Most of them are still here, sleeping in various places on the living room floor. I think everyone has finally gone to sleep now, I can't hear anything.

 _I had noted Longbottom's absence this weekend. I understand that Miss Weasley has been most out of sorts this week at being obligated to remain at school. You are not also on the living room floor with a host of drunken young wizards I hope?_

~ Ha! Of course not. I'm in my own bedroom with the door very firmly locked. There's no way I was sleeping on the floor.

 _I am inordinately happy to hear that._

~ Was Ginny ok? I know she was very unhappy to be missing this party.

 _I have no information whatsoever as to Ginevra's current emotional state._

~ You are no help at all.

 _Not in that respect, no._

~ I missed you tonight, Severus.

 _I highly doubt that._

~ I did. Lots of the girls had their boyfriends here. I thought of you a lot.

 _I hope you are not suggesting I am your boyfriend._

~ I can imagine the look on your face as you wrote that word.

 _You imagined correctly._

~ I would have been proud to be on your arm tonight, whether or not you believe me.

 _I am forced to admit that your actions over the last few weeks provide sufficient evidence to point to that statement being the truth._

~ Of course it is the truth! I wish I could see you. A fortnight is too long.

 _Easter holidays are coming up next week. Are you still interested in spending some time with me? I am returning home for the duration of the break._

~ I will see if I can take some time from work, I am due some annual leave. And even if I can't, I can just Floo to work from your house and return there afterwards.

 _You would do that?_

~ Of course I would, silly.

 _What are you wearing?_

~ Kinky.

 _Not at all. Answer the question._

~ Pyjamas. What else would I be wearing at this time of night?

 _Do have a dressing gown? Slippers?_

~ Yes. This is a very strange line of questioning.

 _Put them on._

~ Why would I do that?

 _Meet me at the gate of the Burrow. It is bloody freezing out here. I do not want you to get cold._

Her heart lurched up into her throat and with a shot of pure excitement and adrenaline she launched herself out of bed and threw on her dressing gown and slippers, opening the door with the quietest possible creak. Padding down the stairs, she was careful not to tread on any of the squeaky boards, which she had got to know very well over her time living there permanently. Her heart was thudding out of her chest with anticipation.

Tiptoeing past the mass of sleeping Gryffindor young men sprawled in various places over the living room and furniture, she cast a temporary silencing spell around them, lest they hear her opening the front door. That would prove a bit awkward explaining where she was off to in the small hours of the morning in her pyjamas.

She walked down the garden, the wet grass snaking against her slippers making them damp. As she approached the gate, a dark figure came into view, raven hair blowing slightly in the wind and clad entirely in black apart from his white cravat and shirt just peeking over the top of his travelling cloak. She could see him tucking an identical notebook to hers into his pocket. Her stomach was doing flip-flops at the sight of him, and the knowledge that he had apparated to see her. In the middle of the night. Of his own volition.

Clicking through the wooden gate, she stood in front of him, looking up into his familiar face, his angular features highlighted by the path of the bright moon. He looked like a dark angel. She smiled as he looked down at her, his expression reading as if he couldn't quite believe she was standing there before him. Neither of them reached for the other or spoke, seemingly content just with drinking in the sight before them.

At length, he broke the silence.

"Granger, I needed to clarify something with you."

"You did? And what might that be, _Sir_?" she replied, a small smile beginning to play at her lips as she mocked the use of her surname.

"I would like to clarify, rather, I would like to ask, or confirm ..."

"Yes?"

"That ... that, if _you_ would like me to be your boyfriend, if that is not too ridiculous a notion at my age, then ... then I would be happy to ... fulfil that role for you."

He cast his eyes away from her, as if partly embarrassed, partly terrified, at the words he had just allowed to slip from his mouth.

She closed the distance between them, sliding her hands up his chest until they reached his neck, where she cupped his cheeks between her small hands and turned him gently so he was looking directly into her eyes. His volcanic eyes were swimming with excitement and fear.

"Do _you_ want to be my boyfriend, Severus?" she asked, thumbing the sides of his face.

He stared at her, not quite able to shake the unreality of this outstanding witch in front of him, asking him such an unbelievable question.

"Do you?" she repeated herself, a little rattled by his long pause.

"More than I have ever wanted anything before, if you will have me." He breathed out, as if he was relieved to have finally released the words from his gut.

"I thought I already had you, but this makes it official," she smiled, pulling his dark head down towards her and touching her warm lips to his cold ones.

"You are astonishing," he whispered, his lips brushing hers as he spoke.

"No, I'm your girlfriend," she pulled back a little and grinned at him.

"So you are. I'd better kiss you then. Come here, little witch."

Quick as a flash, he snaked his arms fully around her waist, lifting her slightly and crashing his mouth to hers, letting out a moan at the delicious feel of her lips that he had missed so very much. He prised open her mouth with his own lips, pushing his tongue in and swiping it around hers, taking the kiss as deep as he could.

She grabbed up little fistfuls of his hair, and clutched the back of his head, desperate to bring him closer, closer. He slid one hand up to support and angle her head, her long curls knotting around his fingers; and tightened the other arm around her waist, pulling her hips in to meet his and press his growing erection against her, desperate for the feel of her softness.

Both knew that nothing further would happen tonight, out in the darkness of the Weasley's front garden. Soon Hermione would have to go back inside, and Severus would need to return to Hogwarts.

But bathed in the pale glow of the moonlight the two shared their powerful magic in the only way they knew how, by a passionate kiss sealing the commitment they had just made. They were in a _relationship_. They had a name. Goodness knows what the rest of the wizarding world would have to say about it, but at that moment it was the furthest thing from their minds.

\- xxx –

Ron Weasley woke up with a start in his attic bedroom, still half drunk and with a raging thirst. Knowing that he had left a glass of water inexplicably on his chest of drawers, rather than his bedside table, he rolled out of bed and padded across the room, extremely grateful that he was not crashed out on the living room floor like the rest of his mates.

He was able to reach the other side of the room guided by the bright moonlight that shone through his window, breaking up the inky blackness. Snatching up the glass of water so roughly that a little slopped over his hand, he chugged it back like an animal dying of thirst.

As he made to stagger back to bed, he looked out of the attic window, which had views out over the front garden, the path that lead to the house, and to the fields and hills beyond.

What the hell was _that_?

Hermione was at the front gate in her dressing gown. It was clearly her because her wild hair was blowing in the wind. And she was snogging! A tall wizard dressed in entirely in black. He couldn't tell who it was until they broke the kiss, and the wizard's deathly pale face, hooked nose and instantly recognisable features could be seen by the light of the moon.

Snape!

Hermione was snogging _Snape_? Why the bloody hell would she be doing that?

Then he laughed to himself.

He must still be pretty drunk if he was seeing hallucinations like that. I mean, imagine if that was real, it would be fucking disgusting.

Still chuckling, he lurched back into bed and crashed out on the pillow. Hermione would piss herself laughing in the morning when he told her what he thought he'd seen; he'd describe it in graphic detail, her snogging Snape, and put her off her breakfast. That would be bloody hilarious.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Hermione walked down the stairs on Sunday morning, her twitching nose trailing the delicious smell of Mrs Weasley's full English. That meant bacon, eggs, sausages, mushrooms, baked beans and black pudding washed down with vats of cold pumpkin juice, plus more than likely a constant pot of coffee on the go to aid with the sore heads from last night's excess drinking.

Entering the kitchen she found Molly serving up giant sized platefuls of food with the speed and skill of a short-order cook. Teenage boys grunted their thanks as they slumped at the long wooden table with their dishes full of the sweetest hangover cure there was. She did not bother to suppress a condescending smirk at their plights, all of them looking rather pale and sickly.

Molly on the other hand looked delighted to have her kitchen filled to the rafters with appreciative bellies that needed filling. Mothering was her natural role and she clearly cherished and loved every second. Waifs and strays were always welcomed and fed at the Burrow.

Hermione served herself a modest plateful at the stove, still a decent breakfast by any means, but dwarfed by the size of the plates that the boys were currently guzzling their way through at alarming speed. She slipped into the only spare chair and began eating gratefully; Molly's cooking delicious as always.

The boys were rehashing the events and exploits of the previous evening in a steadily increasing volume when George slunk in guiltily, with an equally sheepish looking Angelina Johnson behind him.

"George Weasley!" Molly shrilled. "Since when do you have witches sleeping overnight in your bedroom?"

There was an audible snicker that rippled around the crowd at the table, before deathly silence, everyone transfixed and keen to see George get pasted by his mother.

"Come on, mother dear. You know full well that Angelina often stays with me at the flat over the shop."

Molly pursed her lips in disapproval.

"That's as it may be. While under my roof, George, there is no sharing of bedrooms unless your witch has a ring on her finger. Maybe you might actually propose to this poor girl at some point, neither of you are getting any younger!"

George went scarlet and everyone at the table exploded into fits of laughter, making Molly jump before an extremely confused and cross looked passed over her face.

"I cannot see what is funny about it. George and Angelina know the house rules." She sniffed, most injured that no one appeared to be taking her seriously. Even George looked unabashed; in fact he looked positively beaming.

Angelina extended her left hand towards Mrs Weasley, a diamond ring glittering on her third finger. Molly's eyes filled with tears and she shrieked in shock.

"Oh George! Oh Angelina! Oh my babies. Congratulations. Such wonderful news, another wedding, how wonderful ..." and she trailed off, grabbing a handkerchief from her apron pocket and blowing her nose hard.

She took Angelina's hand and began enthusing over the cut and sparkle of the ring. George slipped on to one of the wooden benches set up around the table, shoving Neville and Ron up a bit with a nudge of his hip.

"Well." He grinned, devilishly. "I think _that's_ just bought me as much pre-marital sex under this roof as I want." He grabbed a piece of toast and bit into it with a wink at the younger men who surrounded him, offering their congratulations on his engagement.

Everyone returned to their plates and George began pressing everyone for gossip about what had gone on at the party after he and Angelina had retired to bed the previous evening. Neville was in a state of shock as he had ended up snogging a girl from Ron's quidditch team behind the back of the chicken shed, and was now in a state of guilt that he had cheated on Luna, stuck at Hogwarts with Ginny and the other seventh years.

Seamus had managed to set fire to a sofa cushion whilst demonstrating muggle Sambuca shots, everyone knew it was him but thus far he was denying all knowledge. Dean was holding the current record for the most number of visits to the toilet to throw up. Ron appeared to have sunk the most alcohol and his pale face appeared almost green around the gills, although Harry seemed not too far behind him and was sipping his coffee painfully slowly after devouring enough breakfast to feed a hungry lion.

Ron suddenly twitched into life, snapping his fingers.

"Oh, yes! I forgot to tell you this one. This is bloody hilarious. This is how steaming drunk I was." He seemed rather proud of this fact, and took a swig of his pumpkin juice to clear his throat before continuing.

"Middle of the night, I woke up with my throat dry as an old bone, needed water desperately. Remembered there was a glass on my drawers so staggered out of bed to get it, looked out the window, and thought I saw _you_ Hermione, down the end of the garden by the gate, and you'll never guess what you were doing?"

Hermione's blood ran cold with dread, as if someone had just come up behind her and dumped a bucket of iced water down her back. She fought to keep her composure neutral.

"Do tell me Ronald. I'm sure it will be a fascinating insight into your level of inebriation since I know for a fact I spent the entire night in my room." _Don't blush, Hermione. Don't blush. Play this cool._

"You were snogging Professor Snape!" he bellowed, to accompanying guffaws from the assembled young men.

"How nice for me," she replied, slowly. "What a shame it was only your drunken mind playing tricks on you, I've often thought he would be an excellent kisser."

A chorus of _Hermione, gross,_ and _we're eating_ rang out around the table.

"Well you brought it up." She retorted, with smug satisfaction. "If the thought of Snape snogging someone puts you off your breakfast then I suggest you don't discuss it during mealtimes."

"Who'd want to snog that greasy old git?" Ron blustered. "I tell you I nearly threw up in my dream last night, Hermione. That's your fault."

"I cannot be responsible for your subconscious, Ronald. That is entirely the fault of you reaching the bottom of that bottle of mead. Although ..." she paused for effect, enjoying her friends' discomfort, "The Gryffindor girls' dormitory used to discuss that with the size of his nose, any girl who ended up in bed with him was guaranteed not to be disappointed."

She winked at them, and took a coy sip from her coffee cup as all occupants of the table exploded into violent and dramatic retching noises. Slipping off upstairs and leaving them to it, she was relieved to get back to her own room. That, she thought, had gone rather better than expected. Her fledgling relationship with Severus was not up for discussion. Well, not _yet_ , anyway.

\- xxx –

Severus woke on Sunday morning feeling far better than he had expected to. He had surprised even himself by apparating to the Burrow to see Hermione, but he was inordinately pleased that he had. The conversation by the gate had gone better than anything he could have predicted, and he had returned to Hogwarts after kissing her goodnight with what could almost be described as a light and frivolous feeling in his gut. It had felt good.

He had missed sleeping with Hermione that weekend, of course, but he felt that their relationship, and he could use that word now without compunction, was far more than just physical. He enjoyed her conversation and her whip-sharp mind. He liked her teasing him, not allowing his depression to take over. She was even quite funny at times, not that he'd admit that to her. Most importantly, he trusted her on a deep emotional level.

She really was the most exceptional thing that had ever happened to him, but yet still he waited for everything to turn to shit, he couldn't help it. Pessimism was his natural state, and besides, she had an awful lot more of his memories yet to view.

Determined not to start the day in a cloud of gloom, he summoned his notebook and quill to write a message to Hermione. No doubt she would lift his mood.

 _Good morning. Are you awake yet?_

~ I am. I was just going to write you a message, actually.

 _Really?_

~ Would I like to you?

 _I should like to think not._

~ Well, there's your answer then. What are you doing?

 _Languishing in bed. Alone._

~ I'm glad to hear it! Do you miss me?

 _In my bed? Certainly. I have some raging morning wood that requires your attentions._

~ Why, Severus. I do believe you are trying to initiate a smutty conversation.

 _I never pretended otherwise._

~ I will attend to your morning wood on the very first day of the holidays when we wake up together, if you'll allow it?

 _I shall insist upon it. But do not fear; I have every intention of returning the favour._

~ Promises, promises.

 _Hermione?_

~ Yes?

 _I wish you were here in my bed with me now._

~ I do too.

 _I miss you. And I do not miss people often, if at all._

~ I miss you too. I'm looking forward to seeing you.

 _As am I. Have a good day, Hermione._

~ And you, Severus.

He closed the notebook and headed for the bathroom. After his shower he would begin marking his student essays, something he had neglected the previous evening having spent most of his free hours in the infirmary being stitched back together by Poppy.

His thoughts turned to Spinners End; and its complete unsuitability as a venue for a romantic Easter holiday with his girlfriend. He still could not suppress a shudder at the banality of the word, but he couldn't deny it gave him a certain sense of satisfaction. Who would have expected the vile _Snivellous_ to have such a witch as Hermione Granger all to himself? Twenty years younger and the most intelligent woman he had ever met. _Beat that,_ Potter and Black, you bullying pureblood shits. Eventually, in the end, it was a shallow victory since James and Sirius were both dead, but it seemed like he finally had a win.

He did not enter the secret-kept house from one school holiday to the next. Two weeks at Easter, two at Christmas and the long summer hols and that was it. Any shorter school breaks he remained at the castle. Dumbledore had placed the ugly terraced house under the Fidelius charm to protect him after he had made the Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa Malfoy, when she and her mad sister Bellatrix had visited him at home.

Once he had ousted Wormtail from residence, when the rat was there on Voldemort's orders, Dumbledore had applied the Fidelius so that Severus received no more visitors, and was protected whilst outside of Hogwarts. Dumbledore was the sole secret keeper, given the confidentiality that needed to surround his spying mission. When he died, Severus was the only person who knew of and could access the house.

He would give Hermione the address via the notebook, and she could apparate or Floo directly there. He needed to arrange to be there before her to tidy up, and no doubt there would be cleaning that needed to be done; the whole house was unloved and neglected, much like its owner.

\- xxx -

He was in the library later that night, preparing for a seventh year Potions theory lesson the following morning, and had a series of thick tomes spread out upon the heavy dark wood table in front of him. The library was deserted and Irma Pince was long gone for the day. Pushing his straggly hair behind his ears he searched a fat reference book for a particularly tricky inflammable compound base solution.

He was disturbed from his research by the chair next to him being pulled out, and he was displeased, but not unsurprised to see Faith Burbage seating herself, uninvited.

"Busy, Severus?"

"Obviously."

"Don't let me disturb you." She placed her hand his forearm.

"You _are_ disturbing me, Faith. There is an entirely vacant library around you and yet you have chosen to sit directly next to me and place your hand unbidden upon my person."

He shook her hand loose and returned his arm to its position on the table.

"Why are you so cold towards me? This is not how Charity described you at all."

What? What was this witch blathering about?

"I am cold towards everyone. I have no interest in friendships, which no doubt your sister will have told you."

"Oh no, she didn't tell me that."

He raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "She didn't?"

"She did not. In fact her description of you was quite the opposite. I believe here in the library after dark was your favourite place to fuck my sister, was it not?"

His eyes opened wide in genuine shock.

"I beg your pardon? Charity and I were barely friends, let alone lovers."

"Now we both know that's not true, don't we. Wasn't it here in the library you first kissed her and lifted her skirts?"

Severus was taken aback. Charity had told her sister about the night he had angrily manhandled her, forcing his tongue in her mouth to convince her that he was too frightening to be friends with?

"Cat got your tongue?" She eyed him, questioningly.

"I most certainly did not have relations with your sister. There was a brief, _incident,_ here in the library where I admit I did kiss her, but it was quite against her will and that is as far as it went. It was a single, regrettable occasion."

"Against her will, eh? That is not how Charity described it. When she would come home for the holidays she would take me into her confidence and describe in detail how the dark Potions Master would ravage her mouth with his sharp tongue, fondle her breasts with his skilful hands, before dipping under her skirts and taking her roughly over the library tables."

Severus was genuinely shocked and bemused.

"It appears your sister was a fantasist. None of those events ever happened, excepting a single kiss. We did not have any kind of relationship beyond the usual colleague exchanges."

Faith fell silent, appearing to consider and digest his words, before sliding her hand across atop his on the table.

"Well then, that was terribly remiss of her. What a _waste_."

He stared at her hand, gently stroking his with her thumb. If he was not much mistaken she was offering herself on a platter. How easy that would be, a quick fuck around the castle when he needed it, a nice young witch to look at, and having company available on site.

Hogwarts was always a lonely place to be for young staff members, locked away for months on end with nothing but older professors and a school full of hormonal teenagers. He could see how her offer could be tempting, but not for him. He had no need or desire for her whatsoever. How could she compare to his Hermione? It would be like a candle desperately trying to outshine the sun.

He stood up, sliding her hand from his and gathering up his books. He would read them in his chambers; the library had suddenly become somewhere he did wish to be.

"Whatever you are offering, Faith, let me make it explicitly clear that I am not interested. I have no desire to socialise or be friends with my colleagues, much less take them to my bed. I suggest you return to Gregory Mollins and continue whatever it is you two have started together."

"He was most definitely a mistake," she replied, sullenly, looking up him from her position seated on the wooden library chair.

"I am quite sure it was. Perhaps you should have controlled yourself for longer than twenty-four hours after first joining the staff before dropping your knickers. As it is, you have the entire tenure of your career here, however long that is to be, to regret your decision. I doubt that Mollins will be content with just a single ... interaction. Good night, Professor Burbage. Let us not have this discussion again."

He tried his very best to make sure his final words were intended and taken as a thinly-veiled threat. He wanted nothing to do with this woman, who looked so like her quiet and demure sister, but in reality was, as Poppy had warned, a different kettle of fish altogether.

\- xxx –

~ Hello Severus.

~ Severus?

~ Severus!

 _I was on the bloody toilet, witch, have some patience._

~ Well I didn't know that, did I? I have some amazing news!

 _I am all ears._

~ The Wolfsbane!

 _What about it?_

~ Esther and I presented our proposal for werewolf reform today and it went brilliantly. Our department head was extremely interested in your potion and has taken it all the way to the Wizengamot to request official clinical trials at St Mungo's.

 _You cannot be serious._

~ Completely! I've told them that you're on holiday from school over the next two weeks and they have promised to get back with a decision on whether the idea holds merit and to give the go-ahead to start trials by the end of the first week. So the second week you could be in St Mungo's starting the initial trials on actual werewolves!

 _I do not know what to say._

~ You don't need to say anything! Oh, Severus, this is what you have been working towards.

 _Are the Ministry aware that it is me they are dealing with?_

~ Absolutely. I wouldn't have presented the research any other way.

 _I am shocked. I think pleased, but very shocked._

~ You think that no one will deal with you, that no one trusts or respects you, but I promise you, within the Ministry that is not how you are thought of at all. You are a highly respected Master Potioneer. I confess to being more than a little impressed myself at the high opinion people have of my clever boyfriend.

 _You have to stop saying that. It is inane and beneath you._

~ I will soon. I'm just enjoying it at the moment.

\- xxx –

 _Good evening, Hermione._

 _Hermione._

 _Are you there, Hermione?_

 _Hermione Granger, attend your notebook this minute._

~ Relax. I am here.

 _Why didn't you answer?_

~ I was just seeing how you like being kept waiting.

 _Not much._

~ So I see. How are you, Severus? How was your day?

 _Relatively productive. I have been clearing my private lab of all my Wolfsbane research and test potions ready to take to my workspace at home, so I can continue working over the holidays._

~ I see. Where is home, by the way. Where am I travelling to on Friday?

 _Ah yes. My home was secret-kept during the war and I see no reason to change that. Once I give you the address you are then a Secret-Keeper for my home. I am sure I do not need to tell you what a serious responsibility that is._

~ Of course not. I completely understand. So, reveal your secret.

 _The home of Severus Snape can be found at number 57, Spinners End, Cokeworth._

~ Spinners End? But isn't that your parents old house?

 _The very same._

~ You still live there? After all this time?

 _I do. Why is that surprising?_

~ Oh. No it's alright, don't worry, its fine.

 _It seems that it is clearly not fine, Hermione._

~ There is no problem. I will be there, after work about six o'clock.

 _I will see you then. Travel safely._

~ And you. Night, Severus.

 _Goodnight, Hermione._


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

Severus was scuttling around Spinners End, as if a man with his bearing ever _scuttled_ , attempting to make the house look halfway decent for when Hermione arrived. The small two-up, two-down wasn't _dirty_ as such, just musty and un-lived in. He changed the bed sheets, before musing that the supposedly fresh ones he had just put on smelled just as dreary as the ones he had removed. He applied a quick freshening charm but was mindful that it only masked the fusty smell of the linens that had been stored for months, even if they had been clean when they'd been put away.

He had left his Hogwarts trunk packed on the living room floor; he would deal with that later. It contained all his notes, ingredients and equipment to enable him to continue working on the advanced Wolfsbane over the Easter break. With a bit of luck Hermione had been able to secure some annual leave from the Ministry and could assist with his research; a second pair of eyes coupled with her logical mind could prove valuable.

Wandering into the kitchen which he had left spotlessly clean when he left the house in early January to return to Hogwarts, he noted that all the surfaces were as always covered in a thin layer of dust. He waved his wand over the room, promising himself he would do a full clean with no magic the following day. Tonight he would suggest to Hermione that they procured a takeaway meal from one of the run-down establishments that were littered around Cokeworth, their garish neon signs looking incongruous against the old-fashioned stonework of the surrounding buildings.

He was just walking back into the living room when the Floo activated and Hermione stepped through, shaking the ash from her travelling cloak and her hair as she crossed the grate. He was over to her in three long strides, unhooking her cloak and taking her beaded bag before placing them across the back of the sofa.

Turning back to face her, he reached for her hands and pulled her towards him, lifting her hands and placing her arms around his neck before sliding his own around her waist and dipping his head to kiss her. As he moved his lips over hers he revelled in the sensation of how bloody good she felt, how soft, how pliant. He kissed her with all that he had; trying to convey how much he had missed her during the time they had been apart.

He was happy to feel her mouth open under the pressure of his lips and to feel her little tongue snake into his mouth and seek out his own. She really was utterly delicious and he allowed a low groan to escape as he ran his hands over her back, enjoying the feel of her arching into his touch.

At length they drew apart.

"So you missed me then?" she smiled, keeping her arms wrapped around his neck and twisting a little piece of his black hair at the nape of his neck.

"I should think that is evident," he growled, resisting the rather adolescent urge to grind his burgeoning erection against her stomach to prove it.

"I have good news."

"By all means, share it."

"I have a week's annual leave from the department. I am due holiday entitlement and since no one else is off next week, Pridmore was happy for me to take it."

"That is indeed excellent news. So we have a week together? I cannot tell you how much that pleases me." One side of his mouth crooked up in that way he had that suggested he was trying to smile.

"Try."

"What?"

"Try. Try and tell me how much it pleases you that we have a week together."

She looked up at him with hope in her eyes and he felt his heart do something odd, not enough to presume he was having a cardiac arrest but a strange feeling all the same. He lifted his chin and looked down his long nose at her, a quizzical look in his dark eyes. She smiled to encourage him, rubbing little circles on the back of his neck.

"It ... it pleases me greatly that we have all this time together, away from Hogwarts."

"And?" she teased, eliciting a stern look from the potions master.

"And, you wench; I intend to spend an inordinate amount of that time between your legs."

He lifted her up without warning, swinging her around and dumping her on the sofa, flat on her back before crawling on top of her and mauling her lips with his kisses, no longer caring that his hard cock was pressing fully against her.

Hermione could feel him hard and vital, and she was hit with that familiar jolt of desire in her gut as she reacquainted herself with his body after two weeks of denial, excepting the short midnight snog at the gate of the Burrow. She loved the way his strong but lean body covered hers, the way his hips writhed when his erection was growing, and his raven hair falling upon her face, curtaining them both inside.

A hard spring from the aged sofa poked her hard in the back in a most unpleasant way, scratching her skin and jerking her out of her erotic reverie.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed, pushing Severus off and sitting quickly.

Both of them looked at the wicked metal spring, now sticking up proudly from the ripped green material of the sofa like a wild jack-in-the-box. Severus stood and raised his wand to repair the sofa, pulling Hermione up to standing first.

"No, don't." She said quickly, catching hold of his other arm. He looked at her questioningly, unsure why she had stopped him.

"Leave it for now." She said, softly. "Can you show me around?"

"Show you around? Now?"

"Yes please. I need to see the house. I've only been here in your memories."

Severus led her around the small downstairs of number 57, Spinners End, not that there was much to see, just the living room which led through into the small kitchen at the back of house. She was reminded immediately of his memory she had seen where he had stood in there listening to his father assault his mother, before fleeing down through the dingy back yard into the alleyway beyond.

As they returned to the living room she remembered seeing his mother's corpse on the floor, right in the place where she now stood, stinking and festering after her husband's final, fatal attack. She remembered Tobias Snape, slumped in that very chair in a filthy vest after being struck down by his son, a son whose patience with his abusive father had finally run out.

Severus led her up the creaking stairs, explaining that he had turned his parents' bedroom into a bathroom rather than continue to use the outhouse in the back yard. As she peeped in to see his handiwork, she had to admit that the conjured bathroom was the sole redemption of the house, his magical skill producing a beautiful room, showing his good taste and need for comfort.

She couldn't help but choke back a sob as they entered his bedroom. It was virtually unchanged from the room she had seen in the pensieve. This forty year old wizard lived the same way he had when he was fourteen. His bed was small, not even large enough to be called a double. The room was unadorned, except for a green and grey Slytherin scarf tied around a drawer handle, and photo of a young Severus with Eileen on the bedside table, looking heartbreakingly alike.

She could not help but think of Severus giving over his virginity to an undeserving Lily Evans in that very bed, a girl whose rejection had caused him to turn over twenty years of his life atoning for a mistake that should have been immediately understood and forgiven. She felt inexplicably jealous of an event that had happened long before she was even born, and berated herself being stupid.

She remembered watching his rage finally boiling over with Tobias, turning the whipping belt against his father, ensuring that he would never again harm him. Tobias, covered in blood, begging for mercy from his son, seeing the terror in his eyes as the bully got his first glimpse of the powerful wizard his son would become. She remembered it all happening in this room and needed to get out. She needed to get Severus out too, away from the toxic house where he was held prisoner by his memories, a slave to his past.

She turned to him, where he stood silently behind her in the doorway to his bedroom; a dreadfully shamed look upon his face.

"No, Severus. Take that look from your face. You have no reason to be ashamed."

"How did you ...?"

"I know you. Now listen to me." She cupped her chin in her hand, feeling the scratch of his evening stubble. " _Nothing_ that happened in this house is your fault. You were raised in a home full of hate, secrecy and intolerance. Why you continue to live here is beyond me, it can only be a constant torment and reminder of all the bad things that have happened to you, and all that you have lost."

He was silent for a long time, staring at her, but yet not removing his chin from the warmth of her cradling hand.

"You are right. I have not moved on. I suppose I am scared to."

Hermione drew a deep inhaling breath. This was the first time she had ever, in all the years she had known him, heard Severus Snape to admit fear.

"There is nothing to be scared of any more. I am here with you." She let go of his chin and placed a hand on each of his shoulders.

"We need to get you out of this house for good. There is nothing for you here."

"What do you suggest? I would not know where to begin. I was born in this house, I do not know any different life other than the one I have here."

"This is not _living_ , Severus. This is _existing_ , and you are worth far more than that."

His eyes flicked up to hers, the disbelief clear to see.

"You _are_ worth far more than that." She repeated, slowly but with intensity, pulling him towards her by his shoulders and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips, feeling him tremble at the contact.

He broke the kiss, taking her hands from his shoulders and holding them to his chest where she could feel the steady beat of his heart thumping against them. His eyes were full of intensity and repressed fear and passion, all rolled into those obsidian depths.

"Can you take me away from this place, little witch? I do not care where we go, only that I am with you."

"I can. My parents have a small beach house on the Cornwall coast where we used to holiday. It has not been used for a couple of years now, since they ... moved to Australia, and it is small, more of a crofter's cottage than anything else, but it has a little garden overlooking the Cornish bay and it is really beautiful. Would you allow me to take you there?"

"Why are we still standing here?" The corner of his mouth crooked again.

They clattered down the stairs, and Severus turned his wand on his still-packed trunk, shrinking it and placing it in his trouser pocket before donning his frock coat and travelling cloak. Hermione picked up her beaded bag and placed it across her body, then donned her own cloak.

"Apparation, I presume, rather than Floo?" he asked her.

"Yes. It's a muggle house so doesn't have a Floo connection. Although you can add one like you've done here? I don't know how to."

"I will do it."

She took his arm and he clutched it tight. She hoped that it wasn't because he didn't trust her Side-Along apparition but decided now was not the moment to ask him. She was taking him away from his old life, and the auspiciousness of the situation was huge, it meant that he had yielded to her, trusted her enough to believe that she knew what was best for him. She was exhilarated as she concentrated on her Cornish destination, before twisting into her apparition.

\- xxx –

They landed in the side garden of the cottage, under the shielding branches of a huge willow tree. Immediately the salt smell of the ocean hit their noses, and Hermione pulled Severus round into the back garden to show him the small low fence that was the only barrier between them and the endless view of the sea.

The cottage itself was not far from the edge of a small, sloping cliff side, not too steep, its garden reaching almost to the edge. It was a white brick bungalow with a single room in the room, lit by the skylights that could be seen just at the pointed apex of the roof.

She watched him as he inhaled deeply, breathing in the bracing air of a spring evening, laced with the scent of the salt water. His wide nostrils flared with the influx of the unfamiliar air, and at length, he slipped an arm around her.

"It is ... quite beautiful, Hermione."

"Isn't it? I love it here. Do you see the small gate in the fence there? It leads down the cliff path directly on to the beach below us. We can walk down there tomorrow, if you like?"

"I would. I would like that very much."

He suddenly itched to feel the sand between his toes. He could not remember the last time he had seen the ocean, the last time he breathed in air this crisp and fresh. It was eliciting powerful but unidentified emotions deep inside him. 

She tugged on his arm, pulling him towards the front door. Looking around, which was fairly pointless since the cliff top was deserted aside from two small cottages equidistant each side of their own; she pulled out her wand and cast a quick _Alohomora_ on the door.

"It's only secured with muggle locks," she explained. "No wards or nasty surprises to worry about."

"We will be changing _that_ ," he muttered.

As they entered the cottage and ditched their outer garments on a convenient row of pegs by the door, Hermione was assaulted by her own memories, all of them far more pleasant than those of Spinners End.

"Let's leave our shoes here." She indicated a small boot rack under the pegs. "My parents used to nag me not to track mud and sand into the house; I suppose its second-nature for me to take my shoes off as soon as I walk in."

They walked into the small kitchen which was technically part of the living room, separated by a low breakfast bar behind which were three tall wooden stools.

"Mum, Dad and I always used to eat our holiday breakfasts perched upon those stools." She smiled. "To me it felt like the most exciting thing in the world to be up on a high stool, swinging my legs as I ate my cereal."

She led Severus through to the living room, which had one fully glassed wall looking out over the garden and the sea beyond.

"Your parents made the most of the view."

"They did indeed," she replied, opening a wooden chest that was serving as a coffee table in the middle of the room and pulling out a pile of blankets, applying a far more effective freshening charm than he had done and throwing them in a heap on the sofa.

"For later." She explained, simply.

She showed him the small single bedroom that led off the living room that had been hers as a child. There were still books on the shelves and a flowery quilt on the bed. Then she led him through the kitchen and showed him the bathroom that led off it, very small and cramped, just a toilet, sink and shower, but enough. She freshened the towels on the rack, leaving a pleasant smell behind.

"There is only one room left to see ... and it is the best. My parents' room. I suppose they won't use it again so I guess it's mine now. Come and see; it's beautiful."

She led him up a tiny wrought-iron spiral staircase that led directly up into a corner of the sole upstairs room. The entire room seemed to be nothing but bed; it was so tiny that the large double took up almost all the room, Hermione shot her excellent freshening spell at the linens. The ceiling was pitched upwards like a tent, with a skylight window on each face, filling the room with the last of the evening light.

The room was decorated in seaside tones of light teal and taupe, providing the sense of a blissful haven, light and fresh. It was a world away from the Hogwarts dungeons.

"You are correct, Hermione. This is beautiful." He turned to her and cupped her face with both hands. "As are you."

She blushed.

"Thank you."

"It is I who should be thanking you for bringing me here."

He lowered his lips to hers and began to continue the kiss that they had begun at the thrice-damned Spinners End. This time was different, she was comfortable here. He wondered if he could be too, the signs were all good.

Hermione deepened their kiss, pushing her tongue between his lips and marvelling at just how very, very _good_ it felt to snog Severus Snape. She wanted more, and she wanted it now. She dropped her hands to his waist and began to pull his shirt free from his trousers.

He pulled back slightly and raised that eyebrow of his.

"Eager?" he drawled.

"It's been two weeks." She replied, by way of explanation.

Deciding to take this as a perfectly reasonable answer, he returned his mouth to hers and allowed her to slip her hands under his shirt and rake them over his back. His skin, although scarred and uneven with abrasions, felt familiar and wonderful under her fingers, and she pushed on upwards, expecting to meet with resistance but realising he had wandlessly, non-verbally and whilst kissing her undone all the buttons of his white shirt to allow her unhindered access to his back. Smooth.

She traced every mark, every scar, exciting the nerve endings that were left on the unscarred skin by massaging and stroking. At length, she returned her hands to the small of his back and slid them around to his stomach, feeling his strong muscles contract under the hit of pleasure he received from the sudden touch of her hands against his belly. Travelling up to his chest she pushed the shirt from his shoulders and trailing it down his arms with her fingertips, feeling the hairs on his forearms stand up as she skimmed them.

She began to circle his nipples, enjoying feeling and watching them harden under her light touch, very conscious of his breath beginning to quicken and his eyes upon her, alight with sexual intent, watching her touch him. He let out a groan, and lurched forward, attaching his mouth to her neck and grasping her hips in his large hands, pulling her towards him and suckling at the sensitive cords under her ear.

Leaning over slightly, he ran his hands down her legs, enjoying the feel of her thighs in the tight, knee-length skirt she had worn for work. He began to edge the material upwards, pushing the grey tailoring up higher and higher, exposing her bare legs as he went. She knew what he would find and shivered with anticipation.

" _Fucking Merlin_ , Hermione! Where are your knickers?"

"I dispensed with them before Flooing to you. I didn't think I would be needing them."

"Too bloody right you won't," he growled "Fucking teasing little witch, give me your arse."

He roughly shoved the skirt up above her cheeks, taking himself a large handful of each one, pulling them apart so that a cool waft of air brushed against her pussy that was rather erotic. He pressed her hard against his clothed cock, which had sprung to full attention on finding a distinct lack of underwear on Hermione's bottom.

"Oh, little witch; what you do to me." He rotated his hips against her, not able to cease his grinding, seeking respite for his painfully erect prick.

She slipped her hands in between them, unfastening his belt, keen to get him naked before her. He stopped his frotting to give her a small amount of room to unzip his trousers and push them to the floor along with his black undershorts, and he stepped out of them both, his cock standing up, purple-headed and needy.

He ran a finger down the front of her sensible white blouse, magically undoing all the buttons before pushing it roughly but sensuously from her shoulders, revealing her breasts, lusciously served up for his delectation in a lacy pink bra.

Since the wall was only a step away from them, she found herself pushed against it and Severus' hands creeping back down to her skirt, ensuring it was still raised high, exposing her arse and pussy to him. He pushed her legs apart with one hand, whilst sinking the other one between her thighs, his searching fingers spreading her labia to allow him to find her clit and begin to rub tiny circles against it that she knew would soon begin driving her insane.

" _Severus,_ _fuck_ ..." was all she could breathe out, legs trembling at what his fingers were doing to her.

"That _was_ my intention," he drawled against her ear, "but first, if you will permit me ..."

He dropped to his knees and used both hands to hold open her thighs, using his fingers to spread her labia wide open to his view.

"Lean on the wall, Hermione," he instructed.

He was not to be disobeyed. Otherwise he might stop doing _that._

He kissed her clitoris, which jumped to attention at the brief touch.

"I have missed you, my sensitive little witch."

He trailed the tip of his tongue up and down her folds and she squirmed, needing _more._

"I cannot tell you how good it feels to have you hopping around on my tongue."

 _Merlin._ His words were doing just as much towards pushing her over the edge as his tongue and fingers were. Suddenly, he thrust his long tongue hard into her vagina, as if he were trying to fuck her with it.

She screamed.

"Oh! Severus!"

He grinned devilishly around her pussy; that scream of his name had been exactly the reaction he had been hoping to elicit. He continued to push his rapier tongue inside her, thrusting it over and over, whilst using the fingers that were holding her open to reach for her clit, tormenting it relentlessly, pushing her higher. She was bucking wildly now, looking for her release, chasing it down.

"Come, little witch. Come all over my face. I want to drink everything you have to give me."

Her screaming became desperate little cries, and with a final flick to her painfully sensitive bud she fell over the edge, her abdominal muscles heaving with the force of her orgasm, flooding his face with her warm juices.

He licked her quivering slit, collecting up all the fluid that he could. He had not lied, he genuinely wanted to drink all she had.

"Fuck," she panted, as she began to come down, "Fuck me. _Please._ Now. I need you."

He leapt to his feet, his face slick with her secretions, and pulled her skirt down her hips and on to the floor. He snapped his fingers and her bra vanished. Before she could protest at the loss of a favourite piece of underwear, he had manoeuvred them over to the bed and taken them down together, laying her on her back and crawling atop her, climbing so that his face was opposite hers.

He placed himself between her thighs and lined his weeping and desperately hard cock up with her entrance, still flowing from her orgasm.

"Tell me again, Hermione. Tell me the truth." He demanded.

"I need you."

"And again."

" _I need you_ , Severus. More than you could imagine. I need you in my life as much as I need you inside me."

"And you shall have me." He thrust, letting loose with a moan of frenzied pleasure as he entered her tight depths, his first push taking him straight to her cervix, balls deep in his outstanding witch.

After savouring the feel of being back inside her, he began to move, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, gradually speeding up his movements, easing them both towards the edge that they craved but not wanting it to be over too quickly.

She slid her hands down his abraded back and clutched his arse cheeks in her hands, squeezing them and using the leverage to push him deeper, harder, faster.

"More, Hermione?" he asked with some difficulty, his hair hanging lank, his face flushed and his teeth grinding with effort.

" _Tell me_ , witch." He hissed.

"I always want more from you. _Faster, Severus._ Deep and hard and fast. I want to feel you come inside me."

He began to piston in to her, there was no stopping him now, his thrusts had a mind of their own as he snapped his hips, catching her g-spot and tipping her over the edge for the second time in only a few minutes. Her wide open eyes and her mouth muttering incoherent filth that involved his name catapulted him to his own release, and he shouted out in relief as he spurted inside her, feeling the warm semen shoot from the end of his cock in ecstatic bursts.

As they were coming back to themselves, regaining a normal colour and level of breathing, Severus rolled from atop her, shot a cleansing charm over them both, before using his clever little spell that pulled the quilt out from under them and settled over the top.

He pulled her naked body into his arms, brushing her hair back from her sweaty forehead and kissing it.

"Thank you for bringing me here, Hermione." He told her.

"You are welcome. And what is even better, this is just the beginning. We have the whole week together here, isn't that lovely?" She snuggled up to him and closed her eyes, laying her head on his chest, her favourite sleeping position.

She had brought him here, taken him away from the dungeons, away from Hogwarts, away from Spinners End, to a place where he had no history, no memories, no hurt.

A whole week here did indeed sound _lovely._


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

After a short nap to recharge themselves, they awoke to find the bedroom now in darkness; the beam of the rising moon the only light visible through the skylight windows. Severus summoned his wand with a quick _Accio_ and conjured a wall of fairy lights along the headboard, providing them with a soft, flickering light.

They remained comfortably ensconced in each other's arms, enjoying the feel of warm naked skin against their own.

"Severus?" began Hermione, her head still resting on his hard chest.

"Yes?"

"Why did you agree to come here so readily? To leave your home?"

There was a pause as he considered his answer.

"It was an easy decision. You were entirely correct. You pointed out all the reasons it was unhealthy for me to remain at Spinners End and with each one you listed I found myself more desperate to get instantly away. In truth, I am not sure I ever wish to return. It is not a home. It is an ugly monument to some of the worst times of my life."

"What will you do?"

"At this moment I am not sure, but I suppose the best way forward would be to remove all traces of magic from the house and sell it as a muggle dwelling. Then convert the proceeds from the sale into Galleons and purchase what accommodation I can afford in the wizarding world."

"You can stay here whenever you like."

"Thank you, Hermione, but I would not wish to trespass upon your hospitality."

"Don't be ridiculous. I _want_ you here."

He pulled her close and kissed her forehead, inhaling the floral scent of her abundant hair.

"And now a question for you; in return."

"Go ahead." She propped herself up on her arm so she could see his face.

"As the sole owner of such a delightful cottage, I cannot fathom why you would choose to live among Weasleys?"

"Ah. It is a little embarrassing but very simple. I did not want to live alone. After the war I had to accept that my parents are most likely lost to me, and I knew that by isolating myself here I would run the risk of depression and loneliness. I love to be around people, so when Molly and Arthur asked me if I would like to live with them, I grabbed the chance with both hands. Harry spends a lot of time there too. After the summer when Ginny has finished school and Harry begins his Auror training, it is our intention for the four of us to live together at Grimmauld Place."

"Four meaning Weasley?"

"Yes, that was the plan. Although, I'm not entirely sure what Ronald's future plans are any more." She thought guiltily of Ron and his baby currently growing inside Keava McDonagh.

"So what would happen to the cottage?"

"I want to keep it. For holidays, and ... whenever I want to use it. Maybe you and I could spend time here?"

"I would not be averse to that."

"I am very glad to hear that." She smiled and snuggled back down under his arm.

"Don't get too comfortable. I think it is way past the time when we should go and seek some form of sustenance." His stomach rumbled with impeccable timing.

"Hmm, you could be right. Proper chip-shop fish and chips from the little kiosk on the seafront? It's always open until late in the evenings, every season of the year."

"You will hear no argument from me."

\- xxx -

They sat on the large, plush sofa in the living room, a golden light coming from the fire that Severus had built in the grate, full up from a delicious fish and chip supper and pleasantly dozy on a white wine that Hermione had bought as they passed a corner shop, where she had also purchased breakfast provisions.

They had apparated directly from the house since there were no anti-apparition wards in place due to the cottage being a muggle cottage, and Severus had corrected that as soon as they returned home, applying powerful wards all over the cottage.

Hermione had landed them in a dark, narrow alleyway away from prying eyes, and from there they'd walked down to the little wooden kiosk on the seafront to purchase their fat chips and battered fish which they had carried home wrapped in newspaper.

Returning to the house, they had landed under the willow tree where there was now a permanent _Notice-me-Not_ charm in situ, again Severus' work; the cliff top was deserted, but it was better to cover all traces of magic, one never knew when a dog-walker or ambitious rambler might be in the vicinity.

Hermione enjoyed the feeling of sinking into the comfortable sofa, the smell was so pleasantly familiar; the scent of a thousand childhood holidays spent here at the beach. As Severus was twisting to get comfortable she bade him spin around and place his head on her lap. He looked a little surprised, but it didn't take more than an encouraging pull on his arm to have him turning around and laying his raven head upon her thighs.

She ran her hand down his face from forehead to chin, which gently closed his eyes, and began to stroke his temples, moving in small circles over all the sensitive areas of his face. She massaged the deep furrow between his eyebrows with her fingertip and began to rake her fingers through his hair, rubbing sensuously over his scalp.

"This reminds me of our first rather inappropriate interaction. All those months ago in my classroom," he rumbled, keeping his eyes closed and clearly enjoying her ministrations as his facial muscles relaxed under her light touch.

"Where you pretended to be asleep," she chided.

"But what alternative did I have? You would have run a mile if I had moved a muscle. I was enjoying your touch far too much to bid you to stop, although I remember feeling that I should do."

"To this day I still have no idea why I did it. I saw you sleeping there, looking just so incredibly tired and so desperately in need of some genuine care for yourself. I was struck by the thought that you had spent your life caring for others, whether or not they knew it, or were grateful for it." She answered ruefully.

"That sounds like an accurate summation. I am acutely grateful for your propensity to act without thinking, as it is what has led to us being together now."

"It's nice being together, isn't it Severus?"

"It most certainly is."

They fell silent again, Severus being lulled and relaxed by the gentle movements of her hands and fingers upon his face and scalp. He even enjoyed her twisting and petting at his hair, finding the sensation of the little tugs rather delightful, even if he felt slightly like a cat being petted by its owner. She continued down his face and reached his chin and jawline, pinching along it with her thumb and index finger, massaging away the tension he held there.

She began to stroke her fingers down his neck, lingering over the area that she knew carried his worst scar, hidden from all by a glamour that meant it could not been seen nor felt. It might be time to push him a little further.

"Would you remove your glamour for me?"

She heard his sharp intake of breath, and his eyes opened wide.

"You do not have to, not at all. But I don't want you to feel you have to hide a piece of yourself from me. You are allowing me to view your mental scars, but hiding this physical one."

"It is repulsive." He replied, at length.

"I am sure it is appalling. But it is part of you."

He did not reply, and closed his eyes again. She moved her hands back up to his head and began to massage his scalp again. He was not ready. It was no matter. She was enjoying the feel of him turning to putty in her hands as she stroked and soothed him with her fingertips.

Suddenly, he raised one of his hands from their position at his sides, and waved over his neck in a single stroke.

 _Finite Incantatum_.

He returned his hand to his side and kept his eyes closed. He did not speak further and she could feel every muscle in his body become taut with tension as he awaited her reaction.

Hermione's eyes were fixated on his neck as the layers of glamour dissipated and the edges of an ugly scar began to swim into view. She held her breath, knowing that her next words and actions would be crucial, and she must not display any outward sign of disgust.

There it was. His most personal physical secret was laid bare before her. There could be no denying it was a horrific scar, so huge and extensive that she wondered how anyone could have been bitten that badly and lived to tell the tale. The scarring leeched down onto the top of his chest, and the final flickers ended up just under his chin. It was well healed, clearly he had received excellent medical attention that had saved his life, but it was rough and uneven, a haphazard mess of stitched, damaged and new skin.

She looked upon it for a long time.

"May I touch it?" she asked him, softly.

"As you wish." He replied, after a pause.

She edged her fingertips to the very top of the scar and felt him flinch at her touch. She did not pull away but continued to explore the viciously ragged skin with the lightest of questioning touches. Once she had covered the whole area she returned to her starting point and began to stroke, lavishing attention on the dreadfully neglected area, and saw him lift his chin a fragment to allow her better access. He let out a groan.

" _Uggnhh_ , Hermione. I cannot believe how good that feels."

"I am not hurting you in any way?"

"Quite the opposite." He pulled her hand down and placed it on his crotch so that she could feel his erection through his trousers.

"Really?"

"I am as surprised as you are. Keep going, please ..."

She continued her butterfly-light strokes across the full surface of his scar with one hand, whilst leaving the other at his crotch where she massaged his hard length through his clothing, enjoying him begin to writhe his head in her lap and buck his hips against the sofa.

"Hermione, _please_ , kiss me, please, would you? Could you bear to do so? My neck, it burns for your lips."

She could deny him nothing. She slid out from where his head was in her lap, lowering him down to the soft cushions of the sofa, warm from where she had just removed her bottom. She knelt on the floor in front of the sofa, her knees comfortable on the knobbly chenille rug beneath them, with Severus spread out before her like a particularly tempting platter.

She leaned forward and kissed his mouth, before trailing her lips down to his ravaged neck and planting the lightest of kisses in a long trail across the scar. He moaned at the new sensation, and even more when she returned her right hand to his erection and continued to squeeze and toy with him through his trousers.

She wasn't sure she had ever felt him so rock hard before and he pushed his hips upwards against her hand, trying to increase the pressure and friction. Opening her mouth she let out her tongue and began to use the tip of it to trace patterns across the surface of his neck. He let out a shout, and lifted his hands to his waist, where he fumbled to release his belt and unzip his trousers.

Hermione briefly lifted her mouth from his neck and used her hand to help him, pushing down the top of his trousers and shorts to expose his fully erect cock, standing to attention and purple with need, held in her small hand with pre-cum glistening at the tip. She could not help herself but move down and give the head of his cock a firm lick, swiping up the droplet of fluid and returning quickly to his neck to continue her ministrations before he could realise and protest about what she had just done. She was very mindful about her only previous attempt at giving Severus a blow-job and how _that_ had ended.

She kept her hand upon him and began to rub up and down his hardened shaft, enjoying the feel of his velvety-soft skin over the steel core within. What a dichotomy. She began to place lightly sucking kisses on his scar, causing him to shudder and moan, whilst continuing to wank him with her hand, gently increasing the pace.

" _Damn you_ , witch," he hissed, writhing and rolling, "Please, suck me, I beg you."

She lifted her head and looked him in the eyes, which were flashing volcanic with tortured desire and passion.

"Are you sure?"

"I _need_ it," he told her, panting with unresolved arousal. "I need _you_. I know who you are. You are not a threat to me. You touch me because you wish to, because it excites you to do so. That is right, Hermione, is it not? _Tell me I am right_."

"You are right. I want to suck you. I want to treat you with gentleness and respect, as you always should have been. Shall I taste you?"

His dark, arresting features arranged themselves into a wicked smile.

"Don't be _too_ fucking gentle."

She grinned back, delighted at the turn of events, and moved down towards his groin, where her hand was still slowly wanking him. She swirled her tongue around the soft rounded knob at the tip, taking him between her lips as she did so. Her tongue found his frenulum and titillated it with little wiggling movements, eliciting a deep groan that emanated from his chest.

" _Merlin's bollocks_ , Hermione, move your mouth down me, girl. I am about ready to explode."

She complied, covering her teeth and sinking her mouth down his shaft, enjoying the feel of the veins and ridges that littered the surface under the softness of her lips. The sounds coming from above were quite inhuman moans of pleasure, she was actually getting aroused herself at his reactions.

It was so different to the previous time in the shower, where he had been hit by a nasty flashback of previous sexual humiliation at the hands of Voldemort. Since then a trust was building up between them, he was giving more and more of himself to her. She couldn't believe he had revealed his neck scar to her but was delighted he had. In doing so, they had both discovered that the scarred area was exceptionally sensitive, capable of providing Severus with a new outlet for sexual pleasure and sensation.

She felt his cock begin to throb as she took him in and out of her mouth, dragging his skin upwards and then pushing it back down with his lips, drawing his pleasure out of him, a pleasure he seemed willing to give up, if his erratic thrusting was any measure. She slid her hands down to his balls and cupped them in her palm, using her thumb to stroke across the bumpy surface, furred with coarse black hairs.

Feeling them harden in her hand she began to gently squeeze and heft them, earning her another round of moans from the wizard above.

"Hermione," he hissed, desperately, "Hermione, I am so close, I can't help myself ... you don't need to swal ... _unngghh_."

She had begun to hum as she sucked him firmly up and down, and the vibrations it produced along with her hand fondling his balls was enough not so much as to nudge him over the edge, but instead to give him a good, hard shove over the precipice. He came, screaming, thrusting his hips like a wizard possessed as he shot his load into her mouth, unable to believe the level of arousal this little witch had driven him too.

Hermione took everything he had, enjoying the sights and sounds of him losing complete hold of his legendary control. She reached behind her to slip her wand out of her back pocket and discreetly cast a non-verbal spell of her own device which vanished the semen from her mouth without her having to swallow it. She might enjoy the sights and sounds but the taste? She could do without it, particularly the gallon-load that Severus had just shot her.

She looked at him as he was coming down from his spectacular climax. Laying spread out in the plush depths of the comfortable sofa, trousers and shorts pulled down around his thighs and his shirt pushed up to reveal his stomach he looked like he'd been completely ravaged, and yet from the smile on his face and the sweat upon his brow it was clear he'd enjoyed every minute.

Mission accomplished.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

Hermione awoke alone in the upstairs bedroom of the cottage where she and Severus had retired to after their exploits on the sofa the previous evening. The bed was cold apart from the dip in the middle where she was currently nestling. She could hear the odd movement from the kitchen below and a delicious aroma of sizzling bacon snaking its way up the open spiral staircase.

Carefully descending the tiny wrought-iron stairs, she arrived in the kitchen to find Severus at the stove, chopping mushrooms on a wooden board with the definitive precision he always applied to the preparation of potion ingredients. He had his hair pulled back and worn low on his neck and was wearing his grey tshirt and lounge pants that he always transfigured from his ugly nightshirts whenever she stayed with him. She wondered if he had dispensed with them altogether.

"I didn't know you could cook," she remarked, walking around the stove to stand behind him, slipping her arms around his thin waist.

"Food preparation is not that dissimilar from potion preparation." He slung an arm behind him to pull her under his arm and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

"Good morning, Hermione. Please take your place at your beloved breakfast bar and your food shall be served momentarily."

She released him to continue his cooking duty, taking a seat on one of the high stools behind the breakfast bar, enjoying watching his skilled movements in the cramped kitchen. He used the same controlled, precise movements that she remembered from years of watching him in the potions classroom, nothing wasted, nothing spilt. A lock of black hair fell from the tie, not quite long enough to remain secured and it fell against his cheek. The prominent muscles in his forearms flexed and curled as he worked; chopping, frying and turning the array of food he was preparing for her.

He flicked a hand dismissively at the fridge and it opened, expelling a bottle of fresh orange juice to land on the counter before Hermione. Unsurprisingly, the small corner shop had _not_ stocked pumpkin juice. Using complicated finger movements and not one spoken incantation, the food extracted itself from the pans and split into two portions equally divided between the two plates that we laid out and waiting. With an elegant twist of his wrist the plates were levitated smoothly to land in front of her, and he joined her, sitting on the neighbouring stool with a smirk not on his mouth, but dancing in his eyes.

"Show off." She teased, to which she received a smirk, a shrug of his shoulders and a quick raise of his eyebrows in return.

He was so confident in his magic, all performed with a whiff of arrogance that should have offended her but in fact she found mildly erotic. Everything he did seemed to be so exquisitely sensual, so full of purpose with no movement wasted. Had he always been like this? She supposed he had.

She wondered how long she had been attracted to him for. She had been obsessed with him during her final term at Hogwarts, the term after the war, that wasn't in doubt, but had only identified her feelings as a crush after the night she had stolen into his classroom and laid her hands upon his face.

But what about before then? Harry and Ron had often teased her about standing up for Professor Snape when anyone else in their right mind would have joined in the general student moaning and complaining about their harsh Potions Master. She had often watched him as he lectured and felt a keen admiration for his logical mind and rapacious intelligence. Had it been something more, even back then?

"I highly doubt that, Miss Granger."

 _Oops_. She blushed and turned her head to face him, seeing immediately that her thoughts had once again been shouting at him, seeing him calmly eating his breakfast.

"Wouldn't you have liked me having a crush on the teacher?" she teased, nudging him gently with her elbow.

He blushed, right up to his hairline. _Ooh, she had something there._ Had he noticed her, even as a student? Now that was something she wanted to find out, in the future. How ... _naughty_.

"Only if it was on _me_ ," he replied, firmly.

 _Interesting._

Both returned to their breakfasts, Hermione enjoying the array of food that Severus had prepared for her, bacon, eggs, mushrooms, fried bread, tomatoes; it was as worthy as any Hogwarts fare. She ate hungrily, wondering when would be the best time to tell him that she had about as much culinary talent as a flobberworm and would not be able to return the favour. _Maybe not just yet_ , she thought, as she popped in another large mouthful.

\- xxx -

Later that day found them walking together down the narrow cliff bath to the beach below, enjoying the fresh sea breeze and the bright sunlight. Hermione had altered Severus' clothing so he didn't look quite so gothic in the muggle community, a quick spell had changed his trousers into dark black jeans, and another his frock coat into a shorter black wool muggle overcoat; so not a huge difference but enough to avoid any curious looks.

They crunched along the pebbled beach, not deserted, but not busy. There were a few families running about and some dog walkers, plus a few elderly muggles on brightly coloured wooden benches watching the world go by. Severus reached for her hand, feeling that unfamiliar emotion in his gut again when she took it.

As they had thus far been closeting themselves in the dungeons; just walking along out of doors and being seen in public was a novel experience. Holding hands was another new one. He found it curiously enjoyable just stomping along the beach holding the hand of this beautiful young woman, the sound of the waves trickling against the shingle setting a pleasant auditory backdrop.

After a time they found a small rocky outcrop which Hermione insisting on climbing, which reached out in to the waves. They walked to the end, careful not to slip on the jagged rocks beneath their feet. When they approached the end of the outcrop, Hermione sat down on a large, dry rock, motioning for him to join her. He sat as close to her as he possibly could, placing his arm around her shoulders to pull her against him.

They sat like this for a while, enjoying the spring sunshine and the smell of the sea swirling around the rocks a short way below them. Hermione rested her head on his shoulder, her hair blowing a little wild in the light wind, and he felt that at that moment in time there was nowhere else on earth that he would rather be. It was still unfathomable to him that he, Severus Snape, was in a romantic relationship with _anyone_ ; let alone Hermione Granger, his former student and co-saviour of the wizarding world.

She sat up and turned towards him a little.

"I need to speak to you, Severus. About Ron."

"Weasley? What has he done now? Impregnated another of his team mates?"

She shook her head and proceeded to tell him everything that Ron had said very publicly over breakfast at the Burrow, the morning following his birthday party. About how in the middle of the night he had seen them kissing at the gate from his bedroom window but had been convinced he was so drunk that he'd been seeing things.

"And what was your response?" He looked nervous, as if he was fearful that she had joined in the jeering from his appalled former students.

"I told him that it was a shame it was only his dream, as I'd always thought you'd be rather a good kisser, actually," she grinned.

He gave her a slightly embarrassed, lop-sided smile.

"How very Slytherin of you, Hermione."

"Wasn't it just? There was no way I was going to confirm or deny it, not without speaking to you first. But I do think we need to discuss the fact that at some point, our relationship _will_ become common knowledge."

He looked at her sadly.

"I do not know if your reputation could withstand the damage of being associated with me."

"I just knew you were going to say something like that. Will you stop being ridiculous? I have already told you how well thought of you are within the Ministry, they were falling over themselves to get your potion in for clinical trials. I have no concerns whatsoever about being associated with you."

"Not even your friends' disgust that you are sleeping with your greasy old professor?"

"That would not be one bit their business. I do not pass judgement on whomever _they_ choose to sleep with. And you are _not_ my professor, not any more. We are both consenting adults."

"Hermione, would it be selfish of me to want to keep you to myself for a while longer?"

"Are you ashamed of me?" She looked genuinely concerned that he might be.

"Severus, I did not expect any of this to happen between us." She continued.

"I told you by the Black Lake that discovering I had feelings for someone who used to be my teacher was a huge surprise, not unpleasant, but a surprise nonetheless. I must admit I have not thought too far into the future as we are still just getting to know each other in this new way, but what did you think was going to happen? That we could keep this a secret until I inevitably got sick of you, and then both slink off our separate ways without anyone ever discovering what had happened between us?"

He couldn't answer. That was exactly how he thought things would end up.

"Not in any universe would I be ashamed of you," he began, slowly. "I just find your company, and this ... this that we have together, uncommonly pleasant and I am reluctant to share it. Unwilling to _lose_ it." He whispered the last part in a hoarse voice.

"I am glad that you value what we have. However, if someone finds out, and asks me, I am not going to lie. I will tell them what we are to one another, and how happy we are. I am not willing to hide my feelings for you." Hermione offered him in compromise.

He did not know what to say in response, and turned his face to look out upon the horizon, where blue met blue. He knew she was looking at him in profile, waiting for a response.

"I could not bear it if I lost you." He admitted, at length, staring out to sea and not turning to look at her as he laid himself bare.

"You're not going to. Please, try not to think like that."

"I still have so much more to show you, to admit to you of my past."

She slipped herself under his arm and wrapped her arms around his torso, laying her head upon his chest.

"Then we will continue working through your memories, as we have been. We need to free you from the guilt that has kept you chained and unable to see a future."

He kissed the top of her head in response. She was right, as always.

\- xxx –

As nightfall began to draw in, they were seated on the large sofa in the living room, having started a small fire in the grate. Severus had not yet connected the fireplace to the Floo network so they felt cocooned and isolated, and much more comfortable than when they were secreted in the Hogwarts dungeons.

Severus had begun to tell Hermione about his perturbing conversations with Faith Burbage, and how the woman was now making him feel uncomfortable in more ways than just being the sister of a colleague he had watched die. He spoke of finding Faith being fucked by Gregory Mollins up against the castle wall behind a tapestry, and his disgust at seeing far more of his sleazy colleague than he would ever have wished.

"Professor Mollins was a lecherous creep. We all thought so. I'm so glad I was only taught by him during that final term I returned for. You need to keep an eye on him, especially with the seventh year girls; he paid us far more attention than any of us were comfortable with."

"I have registered my concerns about the man with Minerva. At present it seems he is availing himself of the services of a willing colleague rather than the students. However it seems that the aim of the new Professor Burbage is to sleep her way around the male Hogwarts staff, and she does not appear to be discriminating in where she sets her cap."

His pale face was heated with a blush as he told Hermione of Faith's attentions in the library, and his confusion that Charity had led her to believe the two of them were in a physical relationship. He was very clear that he had told Faith that her attentions were unwelcome and taken his leave.

"It seems like you have an admirer, Severus." She teased and grinned, but her face soon fell as she noticed the stricken look upon his face.

"I find her continued presence at Hogwarts and her attention to me extremely difficult to manage. I am not a man that witches admire, Hermione. I am an ugly brute, but nonetheless over the years as a young male teacher in a boarding school I have been the recipient of unwanted crushes on the part of silly teenage girls, and of course ... several witches have proclaimed themselves in love or lust with me. Either by coercion or coin."

She rested her hand upon his arm.

"I do not cope well with women attempting to seduce me. I find Faith Burbage's advances abhorrent. May I show you why? It will be difficult to explain without a visual context."

She nodded, given that he had used such strong language, and he summoned the pensieve from within his trunk, which was now back to its usual size and stored in the small downstairs bedroom. The serving-platter sized shallow bowl spun over to them, and settled between them, hovering above the sofa cushions. Severus closed his eyes and raised his wand to his temple, drawing out a long silvery-grey strand of memory and dropped it into the pensieve, where it began to swirl and expand.

He met Hermione's eyes, his own filled with regret.

"The memory you are about to view is the night of my initiation into the Death Eaters."

Hermione could not help but gasp, and he flinched at her reaction.

"I'm sorry. I did not mean to be so skittish. I just wasn't expecting you to say that."

"Do not apologise. No doubt, given the curious workings of your formidable mind, you have wondered why I made the decision to join the Death Eaters in the first instance? This memory should answer some of those questions. I warn you, it is not pleasant viewing, and you may despise me when we leave the pensieve."

She reached over and took his hands.

"I'll take that chance. I have to. We cannot move forward if you feel you have a guilty secret you have to conceal from me."

He nodded.

"So be it."

They leaned forwards and lowered their heads into the swirling grey mist of the pensieve.

\- xxx –

The younger Severus, looking to be aged in his very late teens, walked along the deserted path with a slightly shorter and younger man who resembled Sirius Black so very much that Hermione could only presume that this was his younger brother Regulus, the ubiquitous R.A.B. that had caused them such a long delay in their search for the horcruxes.

"I was one full year out of Hogwarts. Regulus had just left." Severus whispered in her ear from behind her.

She nodded, and continued to follow the two young wizards in the memory. Regulus was speaking, his voice oddly breathy with excitement.

"This is it, Severus. This is it. All the waiting, proving ourselves, it has all paid off. The Dark Lord is pleased with us and will now bestow upon us his Mark and his protection."

"I admit, I have yet to meet a wizard more benevolent than Lord Voldemort," Severus replied, his voice low, but not as deep and silky as his full adult voice was to become.

"Potter and my brother will be scraping before us. No more bullying, no more attacks. We will be rid of them forever, they will fear us."

"I have no interest in them. Potter has stolen the only thing I ever wanted. My desire is to not set eyes on any of them again. My life henceforth will be given over to the service of the Dark Lord. He has need of me, and will reward me handsomely."

The scene went misty and changed; they were now within an outdoor Greek theatre, an ivy-covered relic of a bygone age, the stone benches crumbling and the facades partly worn away. Robed and masked Death Eaters were all around. Severus and Regulus were in the centre of the theatre floor, kneeling before Voldemort, back then an unscarred and handsome man with intensely brown eyes and a regal bearing, clothed in rich black robes that flowed around him in the light wind.

"Severus Snape!" He boomed to his assembled followers. "A half-blood wizard who dares to come before me and offer his arm for my mark? The mark of my faith and protection?"

"I do my Lord," Severus replied, head still deeply bowed as he knelt. "I seek only to offer myself for your use and service."

"A half-blood wizard," Voldemort continued, "descended from the House of Prince but polluted by the muggle blood of the father whose name he bears. This is no fault of yours Severus, but the fault of the mother who thought so little of her own magical blood that she sought to combine it with muggle filth."

Voldemort spat on the floor before addressing the assembled Death Eaters.

"Loyal followers! I have personally discovered this boy, Severus Snape. He is known throughout Hogwarts and beyond for his prodigious skill with potions, for his intellect, and for his keen interest and capability in the Dark Arts. I have seen him perform curses of a level that should be beyond his years, and perform them better than many of you! Is that not so, Severus?"

"It is true, my Lord. I am honoured to have been given the opportunity to demonstrate my abilities to you."

"Rise, Severus."

The young man in black rose to his feet, and for the first time Hermione could see his eyes, so familiar to her, burning volcanic black with a thrill of excitement that could only be described as sexual in intent.

"This wizard; my loyal followers, will become our Master Potioneer! I have arranged for him to complete his Mastery at my expense, and the skills he develops will be used for the promotion of our cause."

A ripple of applause spread around the assembled Death Eaters.

"Furthermore! I offer Severus Snape my care and protection, a protection he needs against the blood traitors who have done him harm. He will no longer be forced to his knees before the likes of those who have tormented and wronged him. Prepare his arm."

He indicated to two masked figures who stole forwards and pushed up the left sleeve of the young wizard's robes, holding his forearm out palm-upwards in supplication to Voldemort, who was raising his wand.

A thin trail of black steam emerged from the end of Riddle's wand as he held it against Severus' arm. He traced a long, intricate pattern in the pale flesh, and Severus let out a tortured scream, which was quickly muffled by one of the Death Eaters holding him firm. The wand did not seem to be touching him, or breaking the skin, but the inky tattoo of the Dark Mark could be clearly seen attaching itself to his arm. There was an acrid smell of burning flesh, and although he was no longer screaming, Severus was clearly in agony.

What seemed like an age later, the torture stopped and Voldemort removed his wand, waving away the two Death Eaters who let go of Severus and he collapsed to the floor.

Voldemort looked down at him, in what appeared to be a grotesque parody of paternal affection.

"Get up, Severus Snape. You are a Death Eater now. Death Eaters do not cower on the floor."

Severus scrabbled around in the dirt, trying to get to his feet, protecting his left arm which was hanging limply as if broken. He finally managed it, and stood unsteadily before Voldemort and the assembled crowd. There was a very long silence, before at great length, Tom Riddle began to speak.

"You please me, Severus. You shall be rewarded. Wait there until I have marked your friend Regulus Black, and afterwards there will be a revel in both of your honours."

Severus staggered to a nearby stone and fell upon it in relief, still holding his marked forearm out in front as if he did not want anything to touch it.

The mist swirled around them, and when it cleared Hermione saw they were still in the same place in the outdoor ruins of the theatre, but the scene had changed dramatically. Awful screams could be heard as what she presumed to be captured muggles were being used for the amusement of the assembled Death Eaters and their master.

She saw scenes of rape, humiliation and torture, each one more horrifying than the last. Severus took hold of her arms and guided her to the centre of the theatre floor, where she saw him and Regulus naked and magically bound to a flat stone slab. She looked at his face, but rather than the fear she expected to see, she saw ecstasy, an expression of incredulous bliss that was quite uncharacteristic of his severe demeanour.

"Severus Tobias Snape and Regulus Arcturus Black! You have both proved yourselves worthy of my service, and hence I have Marked you as my followers. This is _your_ revel. There will be many more, but this one is truly your own, where you will be treated as kings. You will make no effort, you will lift no finger, you exist tonight only to enjoy the pleasures that Lord Voldemort will bestow upon you. Bella!"

He snapped his fingers, and Bellatrix Black stepped forward, all lascivious pouting lips, décolleté black robes and a tumble of raven curls over an insouciant expression.

"My beautiful Bella, I understand that young Severus holds quite a candle for you?"

Severus' exposed cock swelled proudly at the sight of the witch he had snogged years before in the Slytherin common room, following a dare on her part. The dark witch couldn't fail to notice his interest.

"I believe he does, my Lord," she smirked, eyeing the young man's erect penis standing bolt upright.

"By all means, grant the boy a boon. I trust you would rather service him than your cousin Regulus? Although either could be ... arranged."

Bellatrix moved swiftly towards Severus, and beckoned over another witch, just as stunning in her fitted black death eater robes, and inclined her head towards Regulus, indicating that her friend should start with him. She then turned the full glare of her penetrating eyes on Severus, who looked as if he was about ready to orgasm right there and then.

"Well, well, Severus," she teased as she reached out a long-nailed finger to wipe the drop of pre-cum from the end of his cock, now purple-headed and desperate. She leaned close to him, running her fingernail up his bare chest and lifting his chin.

"Haven't you been a good boy? You have made our Lord very pleased indeed. Would you like me as your first reward?"

Severus breathed out a _Yes_ as if he had no further air left to give. She drew her wand and removed her clothes using an elaborate _Divesto_ , and straddled him atop the large, flat stone he was bound upon, lining up his cock with her entrance, and sliding down to the hilt in one smooth movement. The young Severus let loose with an animal cry of delight, which did not abate as she began to rock her hips hard against him, as if determined that he should climax in the shortest possible time.

She did not have long to wait. Within a matter of a couple of minutes, Severus had come with a roar that echoed around the outdoor theatre, bucking his hips as if to shoot every bit of his seed into the dark witch impaled on his eager cock.

"Impressive, Severus," she remarked, climbing off him and looking disdainfully across at her cousin who was being straddled and fucked by the other witch.

Voldemort had been watching in prime position at their heads with a lewd and prurient expression on his face.

"Bella, on your knees before me."

Bellatrix left Severus' side and without pausing to reclothe herself, knelt in front of Riddle and extracted his aroused penis from his voluminous robes and began to suck him with relish and gusto, her black curls bobbing in rhythm with her movements. He did not appear to react to the stimulation, but looked around at the scene before him, pockets of Death Eaters spread around, raping and tormenting the helpless muggles, bound by magic and fear.

"Severus, this is only the beginning of what I can give you, now that you are bound to me."

He motioned to a group of two male Death Eaters and one female who were stripping and defiling a teenage muggle girl. The men were holding her tightly and sucking hard at her breasts where her shirt had been ripped from her, as she sobbed and begged them to stop. The woman was tugging at the girl's skirt, pulling it from her before crudely inserting her fingers to establish the muggle's intact virginity.

"Is this one an untouched prize for my Master of Potions?"

"She is, my Lord." the female Death Eater licked a smear of blood from her fingers that she had removed from the girl.

"Well, have at it then." He gestured an imperious hand over the bound and naked body of Severus, who looked a little bemused since he was flaccid and clearly shagged out from the attentions of Bellatrix Black.

 _Rennervate_.

Voldemort shot a targeted spell at his cock, and it sprang to life, just as hard and eager as it had been minutes previously. Severus looked at the girl like he could eat her alive. Oh yes, he wanted her, no doubt about it.

The two male Death Eaters lifted the screaming girl to hover above Severus' erection, whilst the female Death Eater guided their genitals into place, fixing them together as the men pushed her shoulders down, forcing his prick through her virgin barrier. They then held her in place while Severus thrust his hips up into her tight cunt again and again, chasing his pleasure.

Hermione found it nauseating to watch, but forced herself to do so, because it was only by truly understanding the depths of his shame, the inhuman levels to which he had sunk, could she convince him that she accepted him, and continue to mend his tortured soul.

Memory Severus was gnashing his teeth with the effort of fucking, but a jubilant sneer of immense satisfaction remained in place. He climaxed again inside the virgin muggle girl, who was pulled off him and placed sobbing straight on to Regulus to have his turn.

Again Voldemort sent a _Rennervate_ to his cock, and brought over another girl. And another. And another.

 _Rennervate._

 _Rennervate._

 _Rennervate._

Severus and Regulus were laying on the flat raised stone, their bodies bruised, their chests heaving with exhaustion, their saturated cocks swollen and bloody. The assembled Death Eaters had dispersed. Voldemort stood over them, and released their bodies from the magical bindings.

"Consider yourselves initiated into my ranks, gentleman. I expect great things from both of you. We shall meet again."

With that, there was a swirl of soundless apparition as Voldemort left them where they lay.

\- xxx –

They pulled out of the pensieve and were back on the sofa in the position where they had left; facing each other with the swirling bowl between them. Hermione was breathing heavily, as if her chest was constricting, and was unable to rip her eyes from the surface of the memory substance writhing in the bowl. She looked up at Severus. His eyes were red and brimming with unshed tears.

"What must you think of me?" he bit out, his self-disgust clear in the tone of his voice and the manner of his expression.

She did not know how to reply. He picked up his wand and removed the strand of memory from the pensieve, returning it to his head.

"At that moment, had you asked me what was the best moment of my life thus far, I would have said _now_. Right now, as I lay there in ecstasy, covered in the blood of the girls I defiled, my genitals pulsing with fresh bruises from the repeated copulation. I enjoyed it, Hermione. I loved every sadistic, humiliating, moment of it."

"Is that still how you feel now?"

She did not fear his answer. She already knew it. She just needed him to realise it. He stared at her, his eyes closed-off, unreadable, unrecognisable filled as they were with tears which he was furiously trying to blink away.

"I was young, stupid, recklessly stupid. For the first time in my life I had been wanted, chosen, accepted, rewarded. I was so blinded by those feelings that I refused to see what was really happening. Refused to see what we just viewed so clearly, what _should_ have been so clear."

"It was a disgusting display," she agreed, and she watched his shoulders sink in anticipation of her castigation.

"But it is simply the visual of something I already suspected to be true. Somewhere along the way, you did not feel like that anymore. You knew you were on the wrong side, that's why you went to Dumbledore and offered your life for Lily's, and after that, for Harry's. At some point, you knew. At some point, you found retribution."

He looked at her in amazement, unable to bear the depth of her comprehension.

She continued.

"We need to move forward, look at more; find out _when_ that point was. And we need to do it now, lest we have this awful memory hanging over us. I need you to extract more memories, excerpts of that time you spent under Tom Riddle's command, before you ran to Dumbledore. Can you do that?"

In answer, he lifted his carved ebony wand to his temple and drew out strand after strand of wispy grey memories, depositing them in the pensieve. When he was done, he sat still and looked at her, his hands resting in hope under the bowl.

She reached under and clasped them, and he held on to her as if she was life itself.

"We go again."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

The memory in which they were deposited was no less distressing than its predecessor. Hermione instantly recognised the austere decor of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, and more notably the dark, neat upstairs bedroom where a young Severus was currently fucking Bellatrix Black as if his life depended on driving her through the headboard of the heavy, carved four-poster.

Bellatrix, Voldemort's most loyal and bloodthirsty follower, back then her looks luscious and unspoiled before her years of incarceration in Azkaban, was proving a noisy bedfellow, encouraging the younger wizard to thrust faster, faster.

Hermione felt compelled to avert her eyes from the scene before her, feeling almost like a voyeur upon this most private of moments. Severus' hand came up and lightly clasped the back of her neck, turning her head slightly so his lips could rest close to her ear, and he whispered in a low voice.

"This was the summer after I had been Marked by Voldemort. I was working towards my Potions Mastery, paid fully from the coffers of his ill-gotten gains. Bellatrix Black, although I did not know then, had been tasked by the Dark Lord to keep me ... entirely satisfied during the course of my further education. He could not risk me becoming disillusioned and leaving his ranks with the extensive knowledge he had paid for. I was to be enticed to remain loyal until such time as he was certain I was irrevocably beholden to him. She seduced me. I returned to her attentions time and again, what young wizard would not?"

He spoke in a neutral tone, displaying neither revulsion nor appreciation. Hermione snuck another glance at the torrid scene before her. Severus' passion was horribly familiar. Right at the beginning of their time together, Severus had made a throwaway remark regarding the surliness of Kreacher, the Black family house-elf, and she had stupidly presumed his familiarity with the elf was from his occasional visits to Grimmauld Place during its time serving as headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. Apparently not. Severus had clearly enjoyed myriad conjugal visits to his lover who resided there at that time, giving him ample opportunity to interact with the irascible house-elf.

"I believed her to be if not in love with me, then at least heavily in lust," he continued. "I accepted her attentions and considered myself the luckiest wizard alive, to be training in at Mastery level and the possessor of the affections of a fine witch from a noble, pure-blood family. I thought my future was charmed and gave silent thanks to the Dark Lord whenever I could, so grateful for the fortune he had bestowed upon me."

She turned and looked up at him, questioningly.

"It goes without saying, Hermione; that I was to be proved badly wrong."

The scene began to change just as the memory Bella and Severus began to reach their completions.

"I do not believe we need to see any more of this memory in order for you to understand my reasons and desires, am I correct?"

She nodded silently in response.

They landed in the midst of what was very obviously another full Death Eater revel. She could not identify the location but they were in a vast, cavernous room with dark walls and high ceilings, strung with wrought-iron chandeliers which held dozens of burning flares apiece. The young Severus was standing aside from the main group, his eyes fixed coldly on a point across the room.

He was fixated on Bellatrix, on her knees before Voldemort and sucking his cock as he sat fully-robed upon a large throne-like chair atop a slightly raised platform, putting him subtly on a higher level to everyone one in the room so he could observe the proceeding around him like a true voyeur. Other than the occasional hand on Bella's head to speed or slow her, Voldemort showed no outward sign that he was enjoying or even aware of her attentions. What he clearly _was_ aware of was the reaction of his Potions Master, newly qualified and shooting a look of pure liquid venom from across the room.

"Come now, Severus," he cat-called in a loud mocking voice that carried across the echoing room, "Surely you did not think a prime witch such as Miss Black could possibly be yours? You should know she thinks only of Lord Voldemort and the ... _orders_ I command her to follow."

A dark wave of sick realisation spread over Severus' face, and it appeared he was struggling to comprehend that the young Bellatrix was not actually interested in _him_ after all, and had merely spent months fucking him at the Dark Lord's behest. Shock turned quickly to anger, and he strode across the room to where a few Death Eaters were stripping and tormenting a muggle woman, pulling his hardening cock out of his black trousers as he walked.

The Death Eaters could see his anger and his intention, and pulled the muggle's legs open to allow Severus to insinuate himself between them. He knelt down to where she was writhing and struggling on the floor, she was already exposed from the waist down to allow the Death Eaters to torment and fondle her genitals; and grabbed a tight hold of her hips. He pulled her down to sheath his prick, immediately beginning to thrust into her hard and deep. The woman's screams echoed around the room, joining those of the other muggles who had been kidnapped that night and were in similarly tortuous positions.

As he viciously raped the woman, his own anger being channelled into every wicked thrust, Voldemort called out to him.

"You see, Severus, how disposable these muggles are? Take your pleasure and move on, do not think of what you cannot have, think only of what you may take."

Voldemort curled his long fingers around Bellatrix's head and pushed her down hard, clearly approaching climax as his eyes darted all over the room at the scenes of rape and depravity displayed for his viewing pleasure. His gaze lingered upon Severus, watching the younger man's long, thick cock violently thrusting his juvenile rage into the muggle woman, before spilling his own seed into the willing mouth of Bellatrix on her knees before him.

Severus, in return, reached his own orgasm watching the Dark Lord spunk into the mouth of the woman he believed to be his. For a man with a notoriously neutral visage; the jealousy, disappointment and sense of betrayal was clearly written across his face.

"For the first time, I was angry with the Dark Lord," Severus said, close to her ear.

"He tricked me. He allowed me to believe that Bella Black was mine. I lost some trust in him that night. It goes without saying, Hermione, that my trust, once lost, is _never_ regained."

"But yet you stayed faithful to him?"

"I did. He represented everything I believed in at that time. My disillusionment was a gradual process. This was the beginning."

She nodded in comprehension.

"Let's see it, then."

The silvery-grey vapour of the pensieve memories began to stir again, whirling Hermione and Severus up in a cyclone that they could not feel, only see. When the mist cleared, they were standing outside a small row of muggle houses; a huge crowd of assembled Death Eaters were breaking and entering, smashing their way into the red-bricked terraces. The end house was already on fire, desperate screaming and shouting could be heard as muggles clothed in their nightwear were either attempting to flee or being dragged forcibly from their homes.

The young Severus emerged from a house, dragging a middle-aged man by his neck and threw him to the front lawn. Other Death Eaters followed with what Hermione presumed to be his wife and children, a young boy and a teenage girl. As they exited, an _Incendio_ was pointed at the house, starting a small fire that could be seen through the front windows that would likely grow and consume the entire house.

Voldemort stood back, alone, looking at the row of houses, hungrily casting his eye over the destruction that was being wrought by his Death Eaters. He raised a long finger and pointed to the girl who had just been dragged from her home.

"That!" he bellowed. "That is she! The filthy mudblood who believes she has a rightful place to be educated alongside true witches and wizards at Hogwarts!"

He walked slowly over to the house, where the family were being held terrified on the front lawn. The father's face was already a bloody pulp and his clothes were ripped and muddy.

"Severus," he locked eyes with the young man.

"I find myself always eager to watch the work of your young loins. Show this ... _abomination_ ... what happens to mudbloods who ... presume their status." He raised his wand and cast an _Avada Kedavra_ upon the mother, who fell limp and lifeless in the arms of the Death Eaters she had been struggling against.

"Now she can breed no more filth," Voldemort spoke over her dead body with disdain. "The father can watch you take his daughter before we kill him. Proceed, Severus."

The young boy began to scream in earnest, his frightened cries piercing and shrieking. Severus began to strip the lower clothing from the terrified girl, who could not have been more than sixteen, whilst her upper body was being restrained and fondled by a pair of salivating female Death Eaters. When he had removed her pyjama bottoms and knickers, she began kicking wildly, catching him in the face with her heel.

"Restrain her," he commanded his accomplices, as he gingerly touched the spot on his face where her foot had connected with his jaw. "How can I be expected to fuck this kicking horse?"

The two Death Eaters each grabbed the girl around the backs of her knees, pulling them up and opening them wide to expose her most private place to Severus' full view. Her sobs and pleas were agony to Hermione's ears. He looked across at her screeching younger brother, now being _crucio_ 'd to within an inch of his life, and seemed to take pause, in fact the whole scene paused and was silent.

Severus moved and stood in front of Hermione.

"I am disgusted by what you are looking at, what I have shown you, and by what is to come. What I want you to know is this; is that _this here_ was the moment. This moment right here; in the depths of this filth and torture; this is where I finally came to my senses. There was no justification for what we were doing. This muggle family had done us no wrong, they had simply produced a daughter who happened to be a witch, and who was attending Hogwarts."

"Much like me," Hermione murmured, partly looking at Severus, and partly unable to tear her full gaze away from the scene of horror behind him.

"Much like you," he concurred.

"I had no desire to rape a girl who was barely more than a child. For the first time, the idea of forced intercourse was abhorrent to me. I watched her small brother subjected to torture that an adult wizard would struggle to survive. I had to do something, but without arousing any suspicion as to my motives, as that would have meant certain death for all of us, and my efforts would be for naught.

The reason that I have paused the memory here is because I wish you to understand that what you see from this point on; is me trying to extricate myself and as many muggles as possible from the situation. When I am silent, I am speaking to the girl using my mind, telling her what I am trying to do. I am going to cast a spell to allow you to hear what I am saying, but remember this is via a Legilimised connection, no one else can hear what she hears."

They turned back as the sights and sounds of the memory whirred back into life.

Severus turned a filthy smirk towards the two female Death Eaters.

"She doesn't seem quite ready for me yet, wouldn't you agree? Clearly a little virgin that needs a little ... _preparation_. Hold her firm; I do prefer the clutch of a willing wet cunt than being razored to shreds by a desert dry hole."

He slipped his hands between her legs, forcibly spread wide by the two dark witches, and began to lightly play with her folds and clitoris. She tried to buck away from him but was being held too securely.

"Listen to me, girl. Listen, can you hear me? I am inside your head."

Hermione understood this was what the girl could hear. She looked frightened, searching around for the source of the voice.

"Do not look around. I am right here, touching you. Look at me."

She slowly lifted her tear-stained eyes to meet his searing black ones.

"That's right. It is I you can hear in your head. I apologise for what I am currently doing to you." His gentle hands spread her virgin lips open, using the pads of his fingers to start a light massage upon her untouched clit.

"I understand that this is frightening, and that you wish me to cease my actions, but what I must tell you is that _I_ am your best chance of getting out of here alive. Your neighbours and family are dying around you. I am touching you because I am trying to buy you time to understand me before the people holding you become suspicious. Do you understand that I am trying to help you and agree to trust me? Blink once if you do."

The girl gave a quick blink, not taking her eyes from Severus.

"Good girl. I am pretending to be enjoying you, and it is my intention to bring you to orgasm so that you will feel minimal pain when I pierce your maidenhead. I do not wish to take your virginity from you but I have no choice. To not do so would mean death to us both. Whilst doing this I will have to mock you to my ... _associates_. I mean none of it. Do you understand? Blink again."

She blinked again, slower this time, reluctant and clearly revolted.

"Come on, Severus," growled one of the Death Eaters. "Shove your prick in and fuck the little virgin so the rest of us can have a go with what you leave behind."

"Patience, Alecto, I will take my time. She is too tight for me to even attempt penetration at present. She needs a little ... _persuasion_. Take your penis envy elsewhere, it is common knowledge you wish you had one."

He slid his thumbs up the girl's labia, separating them and continuing to massage all her most sensitive areas, using his forefingers to wiggle her clitoris around, watching as her anus twitched involuntarily. The girl's body was betraying her with these new feelings, however unwelcome. He inserted a finger into her vagina, then another, trying to stretch her.

"Silence!" Severus roared at the Death Eater who was torturing the small boy. "I cannot concentrate with that abominable racket. Leave the boy! You have most likely almost killed him in any event."

Amycus Carrow ended his _Crucio_ upon the girl's brother and moved away to the neighbouring house which was being ransacked by a group of mask-wearing wizards. Severus saw the small boy slump to the floor, and Hermione heard him cast a non-verbal, wandless stasis charm in his head, this must have been to keep the boy stable.

"I have placed a spell upon your brother that should keep him alive. I will shortly have to penetrate you and for this I apologise. I need you to orgasm. Do you understand what that is? Blink if you do."

She blinked. Severus applied his skilful fingers to her clitoris in earnest, twitching and tickling in an arousing way which Hermione knew only too well. She began to feel distinctly uncomfortable, particularly when a few moments later, the teenage girl's breath began to come in little squeaky pants, wriggling in her rapist's hands as he brought her to her first ever orgasm in front of her dying father and in full view of an army of Death Eaters and the Dark Lord.

"Breathe deeply," he commanded her as he eased his cock into her tight hole. "Keep breathing. This will hurt. Stay with me. I _am_ going to save you. I promise."

Voldemort began to speak as Severus gave one deep thrust, pushing through the girl's barrier and causing her to screaming. Hermione heard his melodious voice encouraging her to breathe, reassuring her it would all be over soon.

"Having fun, Severus?" Voldemort hissed, taking a sickeningly close look at the rape, aroused and lecherous.

"Very much so, my Lord." He answered as he thrust. "I wonder if you would allow me to take this girl? I find I have some ... _additional plans_ for such an obliging little mudblood."

"You will hurt her and ensure she can no longer pollute wizarding society?"

"Of course, my Lord."

"Then she is yours. Consider it a boon for your helpful service in creating the potion I asked you for. Once I see you come, you may take her and do as you wish. Your brothers and sisters can finish our work here."

Severus began to speed his thrusts as Alecto Carrow was bid to rub Voldemort's cock through his robes. As he leaned over the girl, pumping in to her, he began to speak to her again through the legilimised connection.

"It is almost over, child. I am sorry. I intend to attempt to rescue your brother also. When I make to leave with you, I need you to scream for your brother, that you will not leave without him. I cannot save your father. Do you understand?"

The girl blinked, and Severus closed his eyes tightly shut when beginning his final thrusts, as if he was determined not to look at her as he climaxed, which he did, quickly snapping his hips as if to expel the seed as quickly as he could.

"Very nicely done, Severus." Voldemort drawled in a lascivious tone. "Now take your prize."

Severus stood and pulled the girl to her feet, and as instructed she began to scream for her brother, pulling hard at Severus' restraining hand and trying to run over to her sibling, who lay in stasis on the ground.

"For Merlin's sake. My Lord shall I also take the boy? He looks not long for this world, and recently deceased young bodies make for rare and scarce potion ingredients."

"You speak the truth, Severus. There is no advantage in allowing precious ingredients that may be of use to me to be wasted. Take the boy and use his body in whatever way you see fit."

Severus grabbed the lifeless child's arm, and apparated them away.

\- xxx –

They were back on the sofa. Hermione levitated the pensieve and banished the stone bowl back to the small bedroom, she wanted no more memories tonight.

"What happened? After you side-along apparated them, where did you go?"

"I took them to a muggle hospital. We landed in a deserted area of hospital grounds, it is a place I knew well as I went there countless times with my mother as a child, when my father had injured her too badly and forbidden her from healing herself with her wand. The girl tried to talk to me but I could not speak to her, I conjured her some clothing for her bottom half from a handkerchief, and then merely supported her as she walked.

As we neared the entrance I placed her young brother in her arms and removed the stasis charm. I instructed her to walk through the main doors into reception and ask for help, and as they reached the doors I obliviated them both from behind. It was best they had no memory of what had happened, although of course the boy would have unexplained injuries and the girl would know she had been raped."

"And then you left them?"

"I did."

"Do you know what became of them?"

"I do not. Their father was killed on the front lawn after further torture, and the whole attack reported in the muggle newspapers as the work of an arsonist on the row of houses."

"Oh."

"There were no survivors, Hermione. No survivors from that entire row of houses." He stared at her intently, trying to gauge her mood.

"Oh."

"No survivors apart from the two I hopefully saved."

"I need some air." She pulled awkwardly at the neck of her jumper, as if it was constricting her breathing.

Getting up from the sofa she walked over to the front door via the small kitchenette, opening it and stepping outside gratefully into the crisp night sea air. She walked around to the side of the cottage and into the garden that overlooked the endless sea beyond. It was black and dark so she could barely see anything, but she knew it was there. The permanency of it soothed her. She had stood here as child many a time, usually after she had stomped into the garden after small disagreements with her parents, sulking in this very spot.

It struck her how time had passed, how very much things had changed. Her parents were lost to her now; she could only hope they were happy and living well. She had grown up, passed her exams and was now employed, not to mention fighting and winning a war along the way. And yet the sea and this cottage and the garden and the view remained constant. It calmed her.

She walked around the small lawn, breathing deeply and trying to clear her head, before walking over to the fence and just stood there motionless, looking out into the inky blackness. There was a splash of light from the front door as Severus came to join her. She heard him padding across the lawn to come and stand next to her and look out over the horizon, as if the sea was fully visible in front of them. He had his hands in his pockets.

"Are you alright?" he asked at length.

She made a deep sigh.

"I think so. It was very shocking, Severus."

"I did warn you."

"From the very beginning you have always warned me. If anything, the shock helps me to truly understand the depth of revulsion you feel for yourself."

"You do not, I hope, still think I am the same man as I was then?"

"Of course not."

He moved to put his arm around her to draw her to him but she slipped out of his reach.

"Not just yet. Can you give me a little more time, please?"

He looked stung, and began to back away.

"Do you wish me to leave?"

She looked up at him quickly.

"No! Why would I want you to do that?"

"Because I disgust you."

She shook her head.

"Right now, Severus, this cannot be about _you_. You have carried these memories with you and yes they are truly awful, but I have just seen them, just begun to understand. You need to give me time to process them, I am only human, I have feelings, and I don't have all the answers."

He looked as if he wanted to say something further, but decided against it, and turned and walked back across the garden to the cottage door.

Entering the house he made for the living room, stoked up the fire and sat down in front of it, right there on the soft hearth rug, staring into the flames. His heart was hammering hard against the inside of his chest, causing an ache to begin there. He had shared too much. He should have kept things back. But he had not wanted to; he needed to share everything with Hermione, she who had been the first and only person to offer him the hand of friendship and emotional support, if he had any chance of being able to move forward with his wretched life.

But how could he ask her to bear his shame, to disregard his actions? She was too outstanding for that. He had known from the beginning that he did not deserve her. Why oh why had he pursued this course of action and prolonged these interactions with her?

All of a sudden in the depths of his despair, the answer came to him. The name for all those unidentified emotions, those strange feelings, the urgent compulsion to be with her night and day.

 _He loved her._

He loved and trusted her more than anyone else ever before in his life.

And it looked very much as if she was finally having the second thoughts he'd expected weeks ago.

 _Fuck._


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Hermione stayed outside in the garden until she began to lose the feeling in her toes. She knew Severus well enough to know that he felt rejected by her request for space, and that his fragile mental state would no doubt perceive it as some kind of mortal wound upon their relationship, but allowing her time to breathe and think would be good for him, if only so that he understood that _leave me alone_ did not equate to _leave me alone forever_.

She began to step carefully through the damp lawn towards the front door; no light was visible apart from the golden outline around the living room curtains that suggested Severus had kept the fire burning. Opening the door and closing it lightly behind her, she could see directly into the living room, and Severus sat on the floor before the fire, a pensive but not distressed look upon his face. He looked up as she came in, his eyes following her passage from the kitchen as she came to sit beside him and began to warm her chilled hands before the fire.

"You are freezing. May I warm you?" he asked, in a low voice.

"You may, but just you, no magic."

He carefully put one arm around her shoulders, so slowly it was as if he was worried she would bite. She leant in to him slightly, enjoying the feel of his body heat against her shivering coldness. Taking her movement for consent, he slid his other arm around her, turning to face her so that he could also wrap his long legs around her small frame, transferring heat from his own body to hers. She laid her head upon his chest and heard his audible sigh of relief as he hugged her tighter in response, laying his cheek against the top of her curly head.

"I am sorry. I am so sorry, Hermione."

"You have no need to apologise."

"I do. I have everything to apologise for. What you witnessed, what I have done, my inability to read your feelings with any degree of accuracy, my ..."

She cut him off by lifting her head from his head and silencing his lips with her finger.

"Let me help you. Right now, this is not about _you_. This is about _me_ processing how I feel about something I just discovered. Your remorse is not needed or useful. You fully warned me that you had committed heinous acts and I accepted them, I just have a greater knowledge now. You are still the same wizard as you were last week, the week before that, and so on. "

She looked into his eyes, her light brown meeting the volcanic depths of his black ones, and he was looking at her uncomprehendingly.

"We are working to set you free. You cannot undo anything you have done, it is past. You can only move forward, or stay where you are forever. You have tried standing still, denying yourself any meaningful life, and it isn't working for you, Severus. So you need to move forward. That doesn't mean forgetting, or even forgiving, it just means carrying on, and making the most of the life you have been gifted with."

He bowed his head in acquiescence, thin black strands of hair falling into his face.

"I shall never be worthy of you."

"Stop." She told him, in a stern voice, causing him to look up abruptly.

"This is about me, remember?" she continued.

"What I found really difficult to watch, was you ... you _pleasuring_ that girl."

"Believe me, her body may have betrayed her, but she felt nothing but fear and disgust, I was in her mind, she was wholly forced."

"Why did you do it? Why not just ... rape her?"

He sighed, deeply.

"There are so many choices I have made that I now second guess. At that inflammatory moment, in the pressure of the situation, I wanted to buy the girl time to understand me, to hear me through the mental connection. I could not have done nothing while I connected mentally with her, the Dark Lord knew I was a Legilimens and would have suspected me instantly should I have simply knelt there staring into the child's eyes.

My conflicted mind thought that if I was doing something slightly less unpleasant than raping her, she may give herself a chance to hear me, and therefore save herself. I _did_ save her; and her brother also."

"Do you know if she returned to the wizarding world? I'm presuming her brother was a muggle like their parents?"

"I know nothing of either of them, only that they were injured but alive when I left them at the muggle hospital. I do not even know their names."

Hermione remained quiet for a long time, looking alternately between his dark eyes and the light of the fire. His gaze on her remained constant; unwilling to look away in case he lost sight of her.

"Can we lay here?" she whispered, at length.

Severus neatly flipped the ebony wand from his sleeve, sending blankets and cushions over from the sofa, which arranged themselves underneath and around them in a soft cocoon similar to the one they had built in the dungeons.

He did not know what to do next, what to do for this girl, this _woman_ , this outstanding witch that he loved with all the broken pieces of his tattered heart. He had never had to offer comfort, beyond dealing with the odd homesick first year or a fifth former grizzling about OWL examinations.

He sank down into the nest of blankets and cushions, and opened his arms and body to her.

"Please," he asked her, in a quiet voice, "Please come and lay with me, Hermione. Allow me to hold and comfort you."

She gave him a soft little smile, and turned around, shuffling so that her back was against his warm chest, buffeted by the steady beat of his heart. He immediately slid both arms around her, pulling her tight against him, moving his legs to align with hers and wrapping their bare feet together. A non-verbal, wandless spell sent a final blanket over the top of them as he buried his face in the pillow of her hair, planting heavy kisses over the back of her head.

He moved his head around to kiss her cheek and found it wet with tears. Moving his hand up he used his thumb to trace the salty tracks they made down her beautiful face. She was crying for him. For herself, for those he had hurt, maybe also for _them_ , as a couple, together. For some reason it was an exquisite thought that warmed his soul.

She kissed his wet thumb, and moved his arm back around her middle to hold her tightly. She did not want to talk, she wanted him to hold her and provide comfort. This he would do. He must allow her to shed her tears. He would not permit his own insecurity to prevent him from giving his witch that which she needed from him. He was learning, learning about real life from this exceptional young woman in his arms.

The two soon drifted off into a heavy sleep, entwined before the fire that gradually burned lower as the night grew longer, until it was no more than embers, reflecting softly off the two heads that slumbered before the hearth.

\- xxx –

They were awoken the following morning by the frantic tapping of a post owl's beak upon the window pane. Severus roused himself from the mess of cushions on the floor and stood up, stopping to crack life back into his protesting spine with a stretch as he walked over to open the window.

The owl deposited the letter into his hand and surprisingly did not pester for a treat, but instead turned smartly and flew off at a great pace. Perhaps the bird had been waiting a long time and was now behind on its delivery schedule.

Turning over the envelope, he saw with surprise that it was addressed to him and not Hermione. He broke the wax seal and padded over to the fire; stoking it up with a flick of his wand and watching Hermione gradually open her eyes, which widened at the envelope he was currently extracting the sheet of parchment from. He sat down next to her on a large blue cushion, folding his long legs in front of him.

"How does anyone know you are here?"

"Silly girl. Owls find the person, not the address. That is first year education, Miss Granger, were you not paying attention?" he teased, and raised an eyebrow at the tousle-haired witch still half asleep on the blankets, now rolling her eyes at him.

He read the letter through quickly, having the ability to digest and retain information more rapidly than most.

"St Mungo's have requested that I attend to begin clinical trials on my Wolfsbane tomorrow."

"What? But that's brilliant! Do you have everything ready that you'll need?"

She shot a glance towards the slightly-open door of the small room that used to be her childhood bedroom, knowing his trunk from Hogwarts was stored inside.

"I have everything. I shall need to prepare and ensure all in is order for tomorrow, however. Perhaps you would care to assist me?"

"I'd love to!" she replied, sincerely, thinking how nice it would be to do something _normal_ together for a change, after the intensity of the last few weeks.

She started to leap up from the floor, where the blankets and cushions were strewn in disarray around them, intending to put the kettle on for tea, when he shot out his hand and grabbed her around her slim wrist, and pulled her down towards him. He moved his face dangerously close to hers, so close their noses were almost touching.

"Hermione, in case no one has ever thought to tell you, I find you a most _outstanding_ witch."

She knelt in front of him to steady herself, and slipped her hands forward so that she was cupping his face, his arresting, dynamic features bared before her. She lowered her lips to his in response, for once not needing words.

Severus felt her velvet-soft lips touch his own and was hit with a sense of being the luckiest bastard in the wizarding world. She held his face as if he was someone to be revered, worthy of her respect. He refused to allow his self-doubt and loathing to interrupt this moment, and he blocked out all extraneous protests from within as he concentrated on returning her kiss as deeply and as passionately as he could.

\- xxx -

The following morning Severus was dressed in his full teaching regalia, travelling cloak billowing around him, in front of the fireplace in the cottage. He had spent the previous morning connecting it to the Floo network, in order for them to travel to and from St Mungo's, the Ministry, and anywhere else they might need to go.

Hermione had watched the process, thinking privately to herself he looked like a muggle husband doing some handyman tasks around the house, and being quite amused by this thought. It helped that he was wearing the casual lounge pants and t-shirt, so she could watch his muscles freely as he worked, his long hair pulled back in one of her plain hair elastics. He was intent on his work, so she freely ogled her striking wizard (his arse in particular) from her excellent vantage point upon the sofa, reminding herself of Esther's words that it was completely natural to think about sex and absolving herself of any guilt over the process.

She had made lunch, and they'd eaten it at the small iron table in the garden in order to get a good dose of fresh air, since they were liable to be working inside for the rest of the day. It had been a cool breeze despite the sunlight, and they had not taken too long with their bowls of hot pasta.

The afternoon and a large part of the evening had been spent unpacking everything from Severus' trunk, reducing it in size and stowing the appropriate bottles, ingredient boxes, notes and parchments in his travelling bag ready for him to begin demonstrating when he arrived at St Mungo's.

There were several vials of completed Advanced Wolfsbane, and a selection of partly completed potions so that he could demonstrate the stages. He had large quantities of the required ingredients. His notes were clear and concise, and he had used his wand to transcribe a copy of the final conclusion, along with the all-important notice of patent pending, to leave with the clinical researchers at the hospital.

Hermione did not wish him to leave with a trite kiss, or _Good Luck_ , so instead she hugged him hard, and told him;

"Show them what you can do. It is extraordinary."

He did not reply, but leaned forward and planted a kiss upon her forehead, before grabbing up a handful of fresh Floo powder from the small kitchen bowl they had placed upon the mantel in lieu of a proper receptacle. She watched him tumble through the new Floo connection until he was out of sight, and hoped that he would keep the steely nerve that he employed in the classroom, before chuckling to herself that of course he would, it was only with her that he let down some of his walls and showed vulnerability.

This was the wizard that had boldly stood before Voldemort for Merlin's sake! He was not going to be awed by a few technicians at St Mungo's. What an inane thought. He would most likely have them quaking in their boots and in detention before the morning was out.

Satisfied that she did not have to worry about Severus, she set about planning her day, a blissful day to herself, with no work and no responsibilities. She floo-called Ginny, who was home at the Burrow for the school holiday, and arranged to meet in Diagon Alley for lunch and shopping. Ginny knew she was holidaying at her family cottage, but if she was surprised that a muggle cottage had a floo connection she did not express it.

After a second cup of tea, she moved to the tiny, cramped bathroom for a long shower, before wrapping herself in a pile of towels and cosying up on the sofa with a thick book, the sun streaming through the glass wall that faced the sea. Bliss.

\- xxx -

Hermione Floo'ed directly into the Leaky Cauldron where Ginny was already waiting for her, along with Molly who had come along for a spot of shopping and to meet some of her own friends. After lunch washed down with plenty of butterbeer, the two witches headed out into Diagon Alley, where she first attempted to drag Ginny into Flourish and Blotts, and was met with opposition as the redhead pulled her in the direction of Quality Quidditch Supplies to exclaim over the latest racing broom.

Eventually a compromise was reached, in that broomstick supplies and books would be the heaviest items to carry around, so they would visit those shops last. They headed towards Madam Malkins, intent on browsing the new robes, when Hermione was struck with an idea, and turned them around so they were instead facing Twilfitt and Tatting's, a rather upmarket clothing emporium.

"Shall we?" she smiled at Ginny, raising her eyebrow in question.

"Twilfitt's?" Ginny answered, surprised, "Of course. But that's not your normal shop, Hermione, I thought you disliked all the, hmmm, what did you call it, _overpriced_ _frills and frippery_?"

"I shall not rise to your teasing, Ginny, suffice to say I now find myself interested in purchasing some shockingly expensive frills." Hermione grinned wickedly at her friend.

"Ah," Ginny nodded slowly, enjoying the rush of blood to Hermione's pale face, "would this be a special purchase for a certain mysterious wizard that Mum has been doing such a poor job of keeping secret?"

"It is certainly not for him," Hermione retorted, in mock annoyance, "They are for me. However, if he is _very_ lucky, I may allow him ... access to my new purchases."

Ginny gaped at her.

"Who _is_ this man, and what has he done with Hermione Granger?" she laughed.

"A wizard from work. And before you ask any nosey questions, you will meet him all in good time."

"I'd better. Now come on, let's get in there before you change your mind. I may buy Harry a treat or two as well, that's if I _ever_ get to spend any time alone with him!"

"I take it you're looking forward to moving to Grimmauld Place with him in the summer?"

"Too right I am. Can't come soon enough for me. Sex on tap with my handsome trainee Auror, what could be better?"

She licked her lips lasciviously with a confidence that belied her age, and Hermione did her best not to picture her and Harry together. She followed Ginny's lead into the stylish Twilfitt and Tatting's, her feet sinking into the deep-pile carpet and admiring the sumptuous garments all around. This was going to be rather more fun that she would have anticipated.

\- xxx –

Severus spun through the Floo connection from St Mungo's towards Cliffside Cottage, as they had named the Granger holiday home for purposes of connecting to the Floo network. He stepped over the hearth to see Hermione apparently waiting for him, sitting on the sofa with a book and a glass of wine. There was a second glass poured, which he hoped heartily was for him and that she did not have company.

She looked up, and he noticed instantly that she was wearing make-up, her hair was loose and sleek, and she was dressed simply but beautifully in tight jeans and a burgundy coloured ruffled blouse the colour of which matched the wine she was drinking. A burgundy high-heeled shoe swung from her bare foot. He always found her desirable but tonight she seemed ...even more so.

He raised a questioning eyebrow as he placed his travelling bag on the floor and brushed a little excess soot from his cloak. She stood up from the sofa and brought him over the glass of wine which he took a grateful slurp from, before returning his non-verbal query to his face.

"Did you have a successful day?" she enquired.

"It has been ... an exhilarating experience," he answered, and she could see the flares of growing interest flash in his black eyes.

"What say you tell me everything over dinner? A proper dinner, out in a restaurant, with menus and waiting staff, like a normal couple?"

"I presume this is the reason for your current attire?" he crooked the corner of his mouth into a smile to show his appreciation.

"It is. Can I tempt you? Or if you're too tired ..." she trailed off.

"I am never too tired for you, Hermione. Allow me to shower first? I have been in St Mungo's all day and I would prefer to eat from fresh hands."

"Go right ahead. I transfigured one of your coats and pairs of trousers again so you look slightly more muggle; everything else is laid out on the bed."

"You have done laundry today? How very domestic." He teased her, taking the opportunity to drain the claret liquid from his glass.

"Not laundry. Shopping. Now go." She chivvied him towards the bathroom, amusing herself with the thought that she had just _chivvied_ the fearsome Professor Snape, and wondered whether that would ever cease to be funny.

\- xxx –

They sat opposite each other in the elegant Chinese restaurant in the small Cornish town not far from Cliffside Cottage that Hermione had booked. They had apparated to a quiet alleyway that she had remembered, and then walked arm-in-arm down the lively high street, although it was a weekday evening it was peak Easter holiday time, and the seaside resorts of Cornwall were filled with surfers and their families.

Everything was completely muggle of course, but it suited their current status. Severus wasn't sure he was yet ready to stride down Diagon Alley with Hermione Granger on his arm, despite the warm reception he had received at St Mungo's and was in the middle of telling her about.

The restaurant was dark, lit by red and orange Chinese lanterns and many candles. They were enjoying a tasting menu and dish and after delicious dish kept arriving by way of the waitresses in traditional dress at their large table, washed down with excellent wine and even better conversation.

He had told her that upon arrival in the main reception of St Mungo's, he had not even approached the enquiry desk when he had been warmly set upon by a large wizard in lime-green healer's robes with an enormous moustache like a walrus that reminded him a little of Horace Slughorn's.

"Severus Snape; as I live and breathe!"

The tall, moustachioed wizard, wide of girth and with a very red face, had seized the hand that had not been holding his travelling bag and pumped it enthusiastically in greeting. Severus had shaken the man's hand, attempting to give what he hoped was a smile but knowing that his face displayed a questioning look.

"I daresay you don't remember me at all, dear boy?"

"I must confess I do not, Healer ...?"

"Well of course you wouldn't! You were only a boy of eleven the last time we met. I was the Potions Apprentice under Professor Slughorn the year you began at Hogwarts in the first year. I was completing the final year of my Mastery under Slughorn's tutelage, a practical year spent among the school students. I am Caspar Bergin. Healer Caspar Bergin, head of Potions Research here at St Mungo's."

"Healer Bergin, it is my great pleasure to meet you. Thank you for your time."

"Caspar, please. If your research is correct, and I have no doubt it is, we shall be spending a great deal of time in each other's company henceforth."

"Thank you Caspar. I certainly hope so. Please call me Severus."

He had ushered Severus up several floors to the Potions Research department, where he had introduced him to the small team, the names of whom all escaped Severus as he told Hermione the story. There were three other wizards and two witches, all clad in the standard St Mungo's lime green, and Hermione was amused by his lack of detail.

"Why am I not surprised," she smiled, as she brandished a tiny spring roll between her chopsticks, "that you can tell me about the research laboratory in minute detail, but cannot remember the name of anyone you worked with today?"

"I believe you are aware of my innate character flaws?" he smirked back, helping himself to a honey-coated spare rib, which thankfully did not require those infernal chopsticks she had insisted on using.

Severus told Hermione how the morning had been spent first establishing confidentiality among the group, before the sharing of his notes and research. Caspar had called for questions, but no one in the team had had anything to ask, so explicitly detailed were his notes. The afternoon had been spent with each member of Potions Research attempting to brew the Advanced Wolfsbane themselves under Severus' close supervision and direction. The potion would have to brew for several days, but the aim was to establish whether it could be brewed in large quantities by a brewery, or if it was sufficiently complicated to require a specialised potioneer, which would of course increase the cost.

"Would the cost be prohibitive if it could only be brewed by a specialist?" Hermione asked him.

"Caspar did not seem to think so. In fact he suggested more than once that I quit Hogwarts and begin private trading as a Master Potioneer." Severus dropped this bombshell flatly into the conversation.

Hermione let her chopsticks clatter to her plate.

"Severus! He did? What did you reply?"

"It is a fanciful dream, Hermione, and one that I cannot entertain."

She looked at him for a long while, as he continued to eat rice parcels with his fingers, resolutely ignoring the _bastard woodsticks_ , as he had dubbed the Chinese eating utensils.

"If I were to ask you, what is your dream job, your dream life, disregarding anything that has gone before that you feel makes you unworthy of it, what would you tell me?"

He pushed his plate aside, dabbed at his mouth with the starched white napkin and took a deep sip from his wine glass, before exhaling a long breath and leaning forward with his forearms on the table. He looked up, and fixed his endless black eyes upon her face, his hair falling a little forward, and preparing to tell her his wildest dreams. What harm could it do to speak them aloud?

"I love potions research, creating new potions, modifying existing ones. I love debating potions theory, attending conventions and symposiums, lectures and demonstrations. If I could spend all day in that occupation, and come home to _you_ at night, I would consider myself to have truly fulfilled my _dream_ , as you so inanely put it."

"So do it, then."

She had challenged him, simply but effectively.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Do it. What's stopping you? You hate teaching. You've been at Hogwarts for twenty years and it is very clear to me that you no longer wish to be there, possibly never did. You are a supremely talented brewer and researcher, the advanced wolfsbane is proof of that. What about the hangover potion you gave me the other week? Is that one of your own?"

He gave a stiff nod, not trusting himself to respond.

"It was amazing! I've had hangover potions that didn't work half so quickly, and without anywhere near the degree of complete relief that your potion gave me. Severus, I felt well enough to shag you within half an hour of taking it!"

"Perhaps you could lower your voice, just a little. Not so much for my virtue, but for your own," he smirked, noting that the party on the neighbouring table had picked up on her use of the words _shag you_ and were now sniggering in a ridiculous fashion. He flicked over a wandless coughing hex on the loudest member and watched with amusement as the fat man's wife slapped him repeatedly on the back.

 _Fuck you, dickhead_. He thought. _Yes, she's shagging me._

"Smoothly done, as always," she smiled, noting his discreet use of magic upon the occupants of the next table.

Severus called for the bill, which arrived instantly at the table, and he paid with a handful of muggle notes before helping Hermione into her coat and escorting her into the still lively street with the blissful scent of night sea air.

"I am serious. There is _nothing_ to stop you doing this."

She clutched his arm as they walked to the alleyway where they could discreetly apparate.

"I shall give the matter some thought."

"No you won't. Not seriously, anyway. Look, Severus, I know you feel that you don't deserve any kind of a future, but what about the second half of your dream?"

Before he could answer, she tightened her hold and apparated them home, neatly into the small bedroom in the eaves of the cottage. He raised his eyebrow at her.

"Directly up here?"

"Ssh. Listen to me. What was the second half? The other part?"

He let go of her arm and slipped off his coat, hanging it on the round wrought-iron knob upon the banister of the small spiral staircase.

"I believe the other part, was ... to come home to you every night." He said, quietly, not meeting her eyes, and looking resolutely down at the floor.

She took off her own coat, and took a step towards him, lifting his chin so that she could look him directly in the eyes.

"So, do that too." She whispered.

"I cannot ..."

"You can. And you will. And if you truly cannot do it for yourself, Severus, would you do it for _me_? Could you? Turn your life upside down by quitting Hogwarts, setting up your own business and for once, daring to _live_?"


	31. Chapter 31

**A little bonus chapter full only of lemons as a thank you for waiting so long over the festive period for this update! Dedicated to** _ **WindyShoes**_ **and** _ **GoodJoss**_ **whose encouraging reviews kept me writing and brought joy to my cold little Slytherin heart. Happy New Year!**

 **Chapter 31**

"I do not know."

She could see the fear behind the endless obsidian pools of his eyes.

"What have you to lose?"

"I ... I, do not know," he said again, clearly frustrated.

"And what have you to gain?"

He exhaled deeply and his shoulders sagged in resignation.

"Everything I ever wanted," he admitted.

"Then the problem is ...?"

"I do not deserve it."

"With respect, that is not your decision to make. Does George Weasley _deserve_ to live without his twin? Did Draco Malfoy _deserve_ his every privilege? Does Dolores Umbridge _deserve_ to still be trusted and employed by the Ministry? Did Luna Lovegood _deserve_ to lose her mother when she was nine years old?"

"You know very well the answer is _No_ , to all those things."

"Well then. Does Severus Snape deserve a chance to live his life the way _he alone_ wishes?" she whispered quietly, sliding her hands up his arms to rest upon his shoulders.

"Yes," he croaked, hoarsely, his voice thick with emotion. "Yes, I do."

"I am so very glad to hear you say that."

He felt a tear escape from the pool welling up behind his eyes, painfully constricting his vision. It slid down his long, hooked nose and dripped off the end, onto her mouth. She slipped out her tongue and licked the salty droplet from her lips.

"Wake up, Severus. It is not too late."

He felt her small hands on the back of his neck, under his hair, tugging his head down to meet hers. He tilted his face to the side and pressed his lips upon hers, hungrily moving them against her willing mouth, as always incredulous at the desire she had for him.

He gathered her up roughly in his arms, pulling her on to her tiptoes and flat against his chest, snaking his tongue between her lips and thrusting it into the depths of her mouth, enjoying her gasps of pleasured surprise. He could feel himself hardening already; he had no control or desire for control where Hermione was concerned.

Continuing to swipe his tongue around the deepest recesses of her sweet mouth, he lowered her gently back to standing fully on the floor, completely enjoying the feeling of the slight friction as she slid down against his burgeoning erection.

To his surprise, she placed a gentle hand on his chest and broke the kiss, taking a step back and slipping off her shoes, the high-heeled ones he had noted earlier. She raised her hands to her blouse and began unbuttoning it, not losing eye contact.

 _Fucking Merlin_ , was she stripping for him? His already-interested cock pulsed at the thought.

Hermione knew from the widening of his eyes and the subtle swell in the front of his trousers that he had cottoned on to her plan, a wicked little thought that had come to her in Diagon Alley earlier that day, seconds before she had turned Ginny towards the exclusive Twilfitt and Tatting's clothing emporium, and most particularly, their extensive lingerie section.

She slipped off the ruffled blouse and let it fall to the floor, revealing the deep burgundy coloured brassiere that was serving her breasts up like creamy mounds on a satin and lace platter. It was balconette style, half-cupped, and joined in the middle by plaits of satin ribbon that matched the straps. She could have sworn that Severus had actually let his mouth fall a little open and revelled in the sensation, and it gave her confidence to continue. She was not exactly practised in the art of burlesque.

Her hands went to the fastening of her jeans, and his eyes had dropped all pretence of maintaining contact with hers, and were fixated on the movement of her small fingers as they fumbled with the buttons on the dark blue denims.

She pushed the jeans down her legs, revealing the matching knickers to the bra, soft burgundy satin and lace with plaited thick ribbons at the side holding them securely in place. Flimsy they were not, sumptuous and sexy they definitely were. It was now time to reveal why she'd chosen the shoes.

Nudging her discarded clothing out of the way with a toe, she stepped back into the burgundy high heeled shoes, and stood before him, raising her head to watch the passage of his eyes roving over her body. Oh, this was one erotically charged experience she would not forget in a hurry.

He took a step towards her and she was surprised to see him sink to his knees, before reaching out his hands to touch her feet in the new shoes, sliding them up her smooth legs to reach her knickers, twirling his fingers in the ribbons that tied them.

He looked up at her, his eyes burning black with desire and the moonlight bouncing off his shiny raven hair.

"You are my goddess, Hermione. _You are life itself_."

He leaned forward and placed an open-mouthed kiss to the front of her mound, through the soft satin and lace of the knickers. The kiss ranged over her hips and belly before ending up back where he had started, moving downwards to mouth her labia through the silky material.

Hermione could feel the desire pooling inside her. His utter appreciation and acceptance of her body was as arousing to her as what his hands and lips were doing.

"Severus?" she said softly, causing him to remove his lips from her mound and look up in response, waiting for her further comment.

"Pull."

He was nonplussed for a few seconds, before a wicked grin spread across his striking features. He raised his hands to each side of her new burgundy knickers, and took hold of a ribbon in each one, making sure he had hold of the end.

And pulled.

The ribbons untied themselves and the knickers fell to the floor, leaving her bared for his delectation, and his alone. He rose to his feet, and began kissing her deeply on the mouth, rubbing his hands on her lower back, slipping his fingers down to her bare arse, soft and cool under his touch.

He backed her two short steps towards the large bed beneath the skylights, through which the beam of a bright clear moon streamed in, illuminating them in a silvery-blue light. He laid her reverently upon her back, moving his kiss from her mouth and down her body. Her sleek hair fanned out over the quilt and her tits were bursting deliciously out of that wine-coloured bra. He licked rapaciously over the white mounds, mauling them with his lips, enjoying the lace and ribbon of her brassiere against his cheeks and chin. He would leave them as they were for now, they looked quite delightful. He continued to kiss down her belly, ending at her soft mound, and he knelt back down at the edge of the bed.

Her knees were at the foot of the bed. Her feet, still clad in the tantalising high-heeled shoes, were resting upon the bedroom floor. Those shoes would stay _on_ , he was determined.

He pushed her thighs apart and moved between them, still on his knees, smoothing up and down the soft skin of her legs with his eager hands, occasionally slipping down to touch the shoes. What a peculiar fetish to discover at his age.

He could smell her arousal dripping from her, and could wait no longer to taste the sweet juice of his witch. He spread her legs further apart, the moonlight giving him a clear view of her glistening pussy, her lips wet with desire. For _him_. The thought was still as astonishing as the first time he had kissed her.

He took one side of her outer labia gently in each his hands and pulled the soft, fleshy lips apart as far as he could, using two long fingers at the top to roll back her concealing hood, ensuring that her sensitive clitoris was also uncovered, _oh Merlin yes,_ the scarlet bud was already pulsing at its exposure to the cool air, swelling before his eyes.

He leaned forward and began to trail the end of his sharp tongue along her inner folds, and was rewarded with a scream of pleasure from Hermione. Her responsiveness shot straight to his cock, which was blunt and hard against the side of the bed. _Wait_ , he silently ordered it.

He began to attack her little clit from underneath, bouncing the underside on his tongue, and he felt her juices began to run down his chin as it rubbed against her opening. Was there any pleasure in life greater than a witch panting under your tongue? At this moment, he doubted it.

As she began to buck her hips, he tightened his hold on her, keeping every part of her cunt splayed open for his searching tongue, which he began to distribute all over her genital area, thrusting deep into her vagina, down her perineum and flicking around the entrance to her rear end, which made her squeal but not protest, and with the flow of juice that descended, he knew she had enjoyed it.

"Severus," she began to pant. "Severus ... _Fucking hell_ ...Lick me, suck me, hold me ..."

He cast a look up at the writhing goddess on the bed above him. She was clutching the headboard, scrabbling for purchase, looking as if she was being driven quite mad. _By him._

 _Fuck_ , if he wasn't careful he was going to spunk in his trousers as he had done the first time he had licked her. With the delicious torment of the new underwear and shoes, he was almost at breaking point and was still fully dressed.

He swirled his tongue back up her pussy and began to swipe it roughly against her clitoris, which was as hard as a small pebble. He pinned her hips down, enjoying the erotic sight of her pussy pressed open to its fullest in the moonlight. He began to speed up his swipes, licking faster and faster until his tongue was like a whirling dervish upon her aching bud.

He felt her entire body clench and hold itself rigid, and knowing she was coming, he continued to lick her clit with unrelenting speed before she screamed his name over and over, her stomach and hips heaving and her vagina contracting with the sheer power of the orgasm he had just bestowed upon her.

He lazily swirled his tongue around her throbbing bud, enjoying the pulsing movement in his mouth, and licking her juices direct from the source. Every so often she would twitch with an aftershock, and he felt her hand move down and tangle in his hair.

Very soon, the tangling became more insistent, in fact, it was more of a pull.

He smirked to himself, and stood up between her spread legs, looking down at her completely dishevelled, hair not-quite-so sleek but still stunning, creamy white breasts heaving out the top of her bra, and her pussy slick and dripping with the juices of her orgasm.

"Yes, Hermione?" He teased, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

She said nothing but watched him, her eyes flashing with desire that he could not understand but was more than willing to accept. He removed his white shirt to expose his bare chest to her, and dropped it onto the pile with hers.

Locking eyes, he raised his hand to his throat. _Finite Incantatem._

He felt the glamour begin to melt away and expose the extensive scarring to his neck. In her eyes he saw acceptance, and no lessening of the desire. Good. He wanted to hide nothing from this witch, this witch that he loved.

She sat up, and began to unbutton the front of his black muggle jeans that she had transfigured for him. He rubbed the soft skin of her shoulders and allowed her to disrobe him, toying with the ribboned straps of the beautiful bra. She grabbed the waistband of his jeans from her seated position on the end of the bed, pushing them down along with his black undershorts to the floor, where he kicked them towards the rapidly growing pile of clothes after removing his shoes and socks.

His cock stood proud in front of him, purple-headed and a drop of pre-cum at the tip. Before he could protest, she had dipped her head forward and licked it, before looking up at his, her hands still lightly on his slim hips. For some unfathomable reason, he wasn't scared anymore. This witch was his life and he needed _and wanted_ to embrace every part of it.

"May I?" she asked him.

"I remember once telling you I would deny you nothing."

And he smiled down upon her, a genuine smile that reached both sides of his mouth and stretched unfamiliar muscles in his face.

She dipped her head back towards his erection, and closed her lips over the hardened bulb at the end, swirling her tongue around it, making it soaking wet. It felt beyond wonderful. He felt her small hand slide up his leg and cup his bollocks, gently hefting them in her palm as she moved her mouth further down his shaft, bumping over the veins and ridges that littered the surface of his penis. As she drew back up, he let out a cry of frustrated delight, frustration that he had taken so long to allow her to perform this sublime act upon him.

She lowered her mouth again, and began to build up a tugging rhythm that, coupled with her playing with his balls, threatened to have him spurting down her throat in no time. As he began to shudder, and roll his hips unconsciously, he gently removed her mouth from his cock, and kissed her wet, swollen lips.

"Another time," he drawled, punctuating his words with kisses. "I have other plans for you tonight."

He eased her to lie back down upon the bed whilst kissing her open-mouthed, rolling his tongue with hers, the tastes of their combined essence mingling not unpleasantly between them.

He then stood to his full height at the foot of the bed, lifting her legs so that she had one limb over each of his shoulders, still wearing those fucking prick-teaser shoes that had delighted him so much.

"Severus, should I not take off the shoes, What if I hurt you?" she gasped.

"Madam, there is nothing that could persuade me to remove those fuck-me shoes from your feet. Is that understood?"

Hermione's insides churned over at his authoritative tone, and wondered if he knew just how sexy he was when he was in his commanding, admonishing, _Professor_ _Snape_ mode.

"I did _not_ know, but thank Merlin I do now," he said, giving her an evil smirk that revealed he had heard her musings.

She didn't even bother to worry about it. She was _glad_ he knew she thought he was sexy.

He licked both her ankles in turn, catching a great deal of the shoes with his mouth and tongue, before lining up his rock-hard cock against her damp entrance, a tight fit with the position he held her legs in, and crammed himself inside her with a groan of satisfaction.

Clearly over-aroused and close to orgasm already, he grasped her legs tightly and put them both over one shoulder, before beginning to piston into her in a rocking movement, his heavy balls slapping loudly against her arse cheeks in a most erotic manner. She looked up at him, clutching her legs to his chest, her feet over his shoulder and his eyes closed as if in prayer.

His teeth were clenched beneath his lips where sweat was beginning to collect, and his long hair was spilling into his face as he thrust into her, groaning deeply from his chest each time he bottomed out against her cervix. He lifted her legs to tip her channel to another angle, meaning that he was now hitting her sensitive inner bundle of nerves with each thrust.

As he sped up his thrusts even further, his hips began to blur as he pounded into her, nudging against her g-spot in a rhythm so fiercely agitating that it had nowhere to go apart from explode in a wet orgasm all around his invading cock.

"Severus!" she screamed, being swept over the edge of her climax. "Severus, more!"

He let out a bellow that sounded like a final battle cry and slammed into her, fucking her into the mattress with the force of his hips.

"Everything I have, Hermione ... _Everything_."

She felt his testicles contract as they expelled their contents, shooting his warm semen out in hot jets inside of her. He gave three hard jerks as he spilled his release, clutching her knees as he did so, kissing the sides of her leg that was nearest to him.

Once he was sure there was no more to come, he gently lowered her legs to the floor, and removed her shoes. He _Accio_ 'ed his wand from his coat, too knackered to cast anything wandlessly, and sent a quick _Tergeo_ to both themselves and the bed below them. He levitated Hermione a short way into the air, pulling the quilt out from under her and guiding her up the bed, to lay his goddess down with her head upon the pillows.

He crawled onto the bed next to her, and used his wand to lower the soft quilt on top of them both.

"Sleep?" he questioned, in a low, deep voice, eyes already closed.

"Sleep," she confirmed, sounding as exhausted as he, and then she reached out a hand to lay upon his bare chest, directly over the beat of his heart.


	32. Chapter 32

**Thanks for the reviews; it is SO great to know that this story is being enjoyed. If you're following, please do give me a wave on my review wall; let me know you're here. There is so much still to unfold in this fic, so I hope you're happy to join me for the long haul?! A few more lemons in this chapter ... I was in a lemony mood ... but also some PLOT.**

 **Chapter 32**

He awoke to the bright spring sunlight streaming through the skylight windows above them, casting a dancing beam across the foot of the bed. It felt like a warm day. He reached beside him for his wand; aiming it at the windows and cracking them all open a touch, allowing the fresh air to circulate pleasantly around them.

His reason for living was slumbering on the opposite pillow, flat on her back with her mass of curls surrounding her head like a lion's mane. She was still wearing the wine-coloured brassiere from last night, and he pushed the quilt down a little way to better enjoy her full breasts spilling out of the top of the satin and lace creation he had so appreciated.

"Cheeky," she admonished, not opening her eyes, but a smirk touching her pink lips.

He grinned sheepishly to himself, although not at all abashed at being caught, as he reached over and squeezed a handful of the nearest tit, enjoying the way the lingerie formed it into a perfectly round globe in the palm of his hand. He fingered the ribbons of the bra, dancing his fingertips over the surface, stroking the lace and rubbing the satin, paying particular attention to where the soft material covered her nipple, trying to arouse the bud into a peak.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Tremendously, thank you." He slid his hand across to her other breast and began to pay it the same attention.

"I take it you approve of my purchases yesterday, then?"

"I most heartily approve," he concurred, pinching her nipple through the satin, "when I make my fortune as an independent potioneer I shall ensure you are never without new undergarments for my viewing, and other, pleasure."

She twisted over in bed to face him.

"That sounds so exciting, doesn't it? Are you really going to do it?"

He propped his head up on his elbow and looked down at her, crooking his lop-sided smile at her youthful enthusiasm.

"I promised you everything, did I not? The only stipulation I must make is that I will not serve my notice to Minerva until I am certain I can support myself."

"Of course, that is the only sensible course of action. I know I may seem impulsive, but only after careful and considered thought ... most of the time," she added, seeing his raised eyebrow.

"I believe the first rung of this ladder is ridding myself of the millstone around my neck that is Spinners End. Would you be amenable to coming there with me later to clear the house? I have very little I wish to keep, the majority can be vanished. It will be the last time either of us ever have to set foot in there again?"

"Yes, I will, but do you not have to be at St Mungo's again today?"

"No. The potions research team take over from this point. I have made the submission, along with all the parchments pertaining to ownership and patent, the next time I hear from them will be whether they advise me whether or not it is a viable potion."

"Viable?"

"As in, does it do exactly what I claim it does."

"And does it?"

He rolled his eyes at her in exaggerated impatience, moving his face towards her, almost like a black panther preparing to pounce.

" _Obviously_. Have you ever known _me_ to be anything other than meticulous?"

She playfully darted out her small tongue and licked the end of his long nose as it approached her.

"How juvenile, Miss Granger. I shall have to put you in detention on the end of my cock."

"I'll look forward to it ... _Sir_ ," she grinned, daring him to make good on his threat.

Severus Snape was not a man who _ever_ made idle threats. He threw back the quilt and grabbed her quickly around the waist in what seemed like one smooth movement, pulling her across his naked body as he turned to lay full on his back. Seating her neatly across his morning wood, he bent his knees to form a backrest behind her, and tipped his hips to send her sprawling across his chest where he caught her, and captured her mouth with his own, eager to have his fill yet again, and where better than a leisurely morning in a sumptuous bed that was _not_ in a dank dungeon?

Low murmurs of approval emanated from his chest as he kissed her open-mouthed, drawing all the sweetness he could from her, both of them curtained by her heavy thicket of hair, she was even more Gryffindor with a wild mane like that.

Hermione felt his erection beneath her legs, the skin soft and warm, but the hardness solid and unrelenting. She gave an experimental wiggle of her hips upon him, and was rewarded by his tongue plunging harder into her mouth and his own hips rising to meet her. They had not yet had sex in this position, apart from a quickie on his sofa when he had literally fucked her from beneath; she had not had to set the rhythm, so to speak. She was feeling a little foolish, not knowing quite what to do. She would have to ask him. After all, he had done nothing but present _her_ with his insecurities these past weeks, he was long overdue some turnabout.

She pushed up on her hands so that could look him in the face.

"Severus, I ... I don't ..." she trailed off, annoyed with her lack of confidence.

"What, Hermione? Tell me."

He raised his hands to her face and pushed her hair away from her eyes, holding it still so that he could read her expression.

"I don't know how to fuck you this way," she blurted out in one breath, turning scarlet with embarrassment, dreading that he might laugh at her.

"Then I shall instruct you," he replied, low and gentle, "if you will permit me?"

She nodded, still feeling a little stupid, but keen to learn, especially if he was going to continue looking at her like _that_. Like he wanted to devour her whole.

"Sit up."

She complied, sitting back on her heels, his penis trapped beneath her.

"Circle your hips."

She looked at him quizzically.

"I enjoy the sensation of your wet, bare cunt rubbing against my cock. I think you will too. Try it."

She blushed again at his ribald choice of words, but did as she had been instructed, rotating her hips and feeling his hard cock rolling through her folds, _Merlin_ , he was right, that felt good. His long arms moved down and grasped her thighs, leaving white marks where his fingertips gripped her flesh.

"I cannot tell you what a pleasant view this is, looking up and seeing your ripe tits spilling from that brassiere, the red blush staining your face and décolleté, whilst you grind yourself against me."

His eyes were dark and hooded with desire. She felt his erection pulse underneath her, and instinctively raised up to her knees to create space between them.

"That's right, little witch, that's right ..." he hissed, reaching between her legs to manoeuvre his cock to her entrance, poking the blunt head inside. He looked up and met her eyes.

"Sit down."

She felt his wide girth open up her channel as she sat back on her heels, continuing her descent until she was fully impaled on him. She wasn't sure she had ever felt so full, and she heard him chuckle darkly at the surprise that must have been registering on her face.

"The compliments you give me, brave little lion, could go to a wizard's head."

"What do I do now?" she asked, helplessly.

"Close your eyes."

Confused, she did as he asked, and was rewarded by the feel of his long fingers searching the front of her mound, sneaking their way under the hood concealing her clitoris and beginning to massage it. At the touch of his skilful fingers she began to undulate her hips the way she would usually writhe when he aroused her in this manner. He increased the pace, and grasped her hip with the other hand, moving her in the rhythm he needed.

She leaned back against his bent knees, splaying her labia open and he grasped a much better hold of her clit, making her squeal. Balancing upon her own heels; she began to slide up and down his shaft, stroking herself internally as much as she was milking his cock. Now this, this was delicious, and the depth and angle of penetration was blowing her mind. His fingers were now frantically twiddling her clit, working it back and forth like a tiny penis, and she hopped up and down in his lap, thrusting him deep inside her, chasing her own climax but inadvertently driving him towards his own.

Severus could scarcely believe the sight before him in broad daylight. This outstanding young witch astride him, head thrown back and breasts bouncing in their lace and ribbon confines, wet cunt writhing on his fingers and fucking his cock with a speed and passion that belied her inexperience. _Fucking Merlin_ there was no way this could last ... _unnggghhh_! She had squeezed his climax out of him; he felt his balls contract and his release shoot out the end of his cock into her heaving channel.

He retained just enough presence of mind to keep his fingers masturbating her clit up and down, roughly flicking the end until he heard her scream in orgasm, and her vagina contract around his still-pulsing dick. As his chest tried to replenish the air in his lungs, he could not help but keep a circling thumb upon the throbbing little bud, enjoying the aftershocks that trembled through it, accompanied by Hermione's pants and gasps.

He was certain, after such an auspicious start; that today was likely to be a very good day.

\- xxx –

He stepped over the dusty hearth of the fireplace in Spinners End, and moved smartly out of the way, knowing that Hermione was following him, holding out his hand to escort her through. After the sunny warmth and cleanliness of the cottage, the drab surroundings of his childhood home sent a chill down his back that had nothing to do with the temperature.

He had made absolutely the correct decision to leave with Hermione a week ago, and to allow himself to trust her and be taken from this place. With the exception of his books, there was nothing he that he loved, nothing that he would miss should the house be burnt to the ground, these were nothing but the four walls that had been the backdrop of his abusive childhood and stored the remnants of a marriage and a family that should have never existed.

"Are you alright?"

He looked down at the curly-haired witch clutching his arm in concern.

"I am quite alright, Hermione. I am grateful for your assistance in undertaking a task that I should have attended to many years ago."

He kissed her forehead.

"We need to remove all traces of magic from the house, including unfortunately, the bathroom, since it was entirely conjured and transfigured. It is no matter, since I intend to sell the house to a property developer whom I believe has been buying up vast swathes of the houses on this godforsaken estate. I shall go down to their site office this afternoon, it is not far from here, and hopefully effect the transaction immediately."

She nodded in understanding, and looked around the room at the sparse furnishings and the immense collection of leather-bound books.

"I suppose the best place to start is figuring out what items you wish to keep?"

"The books," he replied, immediately. "There is nothing else for me here. Anything by way of valuables are kept in my chambers at Hogwarts, and the furniture, household items and anything else we might find are either outdated, broken or superfluous to my life in the magical world."

"I am impressed with this firm decision-making, Severus," she smiled, slipping her arms around his slim waist.

"I have in my arms all that I need in my life," he said, enveloping her completely within his billowing black travelling cloak and resting his cheek upon the top of her head.

"I must ask you if you would object to me storing my books in the small bedroom at the cottage until such time as I secure a new residence? I would prefer not to have such a large collection in my chambers at Hogwarts."

"Of course I don't mind, you don't even need to ask."

"Nonetheless, I should not ever wish to be presumptuous."

"Thank you for asking. But it is fine for you to store anything you wish at the cottage. Would you like me to pack them for you whilst you attend to the rest of the house?"

"There is no one else I would trust to show respect to my library other than Hermione Granger," he smirked, letting go of her and drawing his wand to point at the old coffee table, transfiguring it into a sturdy trunk, with the lid open to receive his precious collection.

He watched from the doorway as Hermione used her own wand to neatly remove the books from the stacks in small groups of half a dozen, ensure they were dusted and in order, before sending them to pile neatly into the trunk. He smiled to himself at the care she was taking with his possessions. He could certainly leave her to this task without concern.

He strode up the stairs, wincing as the old wooden steps creaked ominously beneath his heavy footfall. He pulled the old metal ladder down from the loft hatch and climbed up to the room he had not been in since he was a child; the dusty, spidery attic where he had received covert magical instruction from his mother.

Not needing to climb fully into the room, from his vantage point on the ladder he could see there was nothing at all in the low attic apart from decades of dust. The entire space was eerily empty, smashed crockery and corpses of mice who had been his test subjects long since decayed and turned to dust by the sands of time.

He descended the ladder, shooting the ancient folding mechanism back into the loft hatch and sealing it. His childhood bedroom was next, and what a pathetic memorial it was. He could scarcely believe that he had spent the holidays of his adult life using this as his home whilst not at Hogwarts, sleeping in the juvenile bed, changing nothing. It was little surprise he was stuck in the past; he had been physically living there too, clinging on to the shred of a memory he had of handing his virginity to Lily Evans in this room, on that bed. What a waste of life.

He saw the room through Hermione's eyes, her shock and sadness at the way he had been living. She had been right, he was doing nothing to help himself, just standing still and stagnating in his own depression, regret and self-pity. Ill-placed regret that did nothing to honour his the enforced sacrifice of his victims or validate the fact of his own survival.

Buoyed by this realisation, he began to cast vanishing spells on every item in the room, disappearing each rotten memory into non-being, nothing was needed anymore. The wardrobe and drawers were empty; all his belongings were kept at Hogwarts, with only the essentials being brought home each holiday.

 _Evanesco._

 _Evanesco._

 _Evanesco._

The furniture began to disappear, the room becoming larger and more echoing as it emptied. He paused at the photograph of himself with his mother, the one picture he owned, before casting at that too, there was nothing to be gained from holding on to her memory. She had not protected her son; she had not shown him love. Her inactivity and passiveness made her as wicked as her husband with his belt and his fists. Was not a parent who stood by and watched, allowed and condoned abuse, just as guilty as the perpetrator?

He clenched his fists and vowed that no child of _his_ would ever be treated in such a manner, and then quickly squashed down that thought as soon as it surfaced, with a little sadness that there was no way he could ever allow himself to become a father.

He continued to cast the vanishing spell until there was nothing left in the room apart from his old school Slytherin scarf lying on the ragged carpet in a messy squiggle. He picked it up and slid it loosely around his neck for safekeeping. This he would keep. He was proud of his Hogwarts house, this was a positive memento and worth holding on to. He would bring it to his new residence, once he had secured it.

Satisfied that the room was empty, he moved onto to the other upstairs room, the conjured bathroom that had once been his parents' room. He reversed the spell that he had used to make it, watching through narrowed eyes as the room reverted to its original state, the transfigured items returning to their original state of Tobias and Eileen Snape's marital bed, armoires, chests of drawers and a large linen box.

He was assaulted by the sights and smells of his past, no doubt the cupboards were full of their clothes, held in stasis in their transfigured state.

Not stopping to examine anything, he cast _Evanesco_ around the room at each item, the furniture disappearing into non-being as quickly as it had been re-transfigured. Once he was completed, the echoing emptiness of the room pleased him, its spartan state reflecting the feeling he was having of washing himself clean. It gave him a curiously satisfied feeling.

He descended the stairs to find his bookshelves empty and the surprising but not unpleasant site of Hermione's bottom poking out from the top of the trunk, her entire upper body deep in its recesses.

"Undetectable extension charm?" he drawled, leaning against the doorframe and treating himself to an eyeful of his girlfriend's delicious arse as it wiggled around in the trunk, she was clearly arranging something.

"What?"

Her head bobbed up from the trunk, narrowly missing the lid and amusingly dishevelled. She noted him appraising her from the doorway with arms folded and that infernally sexy raised eyebrow, and had no doubt what he had been looking at.

"Enjoying the view?" she muttered.

"Immensely," he smirked, "please do, continue."

"I'm just about finished, I think," she said, standing up and straightening her clothing. "I put an extension charm and some shelving into the trunk; I needed to make sure your books were in order so that nothing gets damaged when it is shrunk for transportation. Nice scarf, by the way," she added, indicating the green and grey Slytherin adornment to his outfit.

"The one thing I found upstairs that I wish to keep," he told her, lifting the tasselled end of the scarf and inspecting it.

"Thank you for your attention to detail," he rumbled, indicating her work on the trunk with a inclination of his head, stepping towards her and sending his long arms slithering around her waist and gathering her against him.

"You are so welcome, and ... oh!"

He cut her off by dipping his head and beginning to attack her neck with sucking, open-mouthed kisses, enjoying the feeling of her slumping slightly in his arms as he mouthed his way down the sensitive cords of her threat.

"You were saying?" he enquired, not letting up on his assault.

"Well, I can't think of anything sensible to say while you're doing _that_ ," she retorted, in mock-annoyance, clutching on to his sleeves.

"You are of course correct, as always," he replied, reluctantly removing his arms from around her waist and redrawing his wand from his coat sleeve.

He began to cast his _Evanesco_ around the living room, vanishing the broken sofa; its spring still sticking out like a mad jack-in-the-box where they had left it a week ago, the small dining table and chairs, the clock from the mantelpiece and, focusing hard, the hated armchair that had so often contained the fetid and drunk Tobias Snape. The wretched item vanished into non-being, never to haunt him again.

"Goodness," Hermione remarked, "that's a quick and effective way to clear a house. Is that what you did with the upstairs?"

He nodded, and walked quickly through to the kitchen; vanishing everything that was not fixed to the wall. He had no time for sentimentality or regret, those years were long since past; and he had a future to prepare for - with no place in it for such trinkets as an old teapot or other such guff.

He approached the last piece of furniture left in the house, a large welsh dresser with empty shelves. Opening the middle drawer he drew out a muggle folder full of papers, which he handed to Hermione and asked her to hold, but not to pack it. He checked the other drawers and small cupboards underneath, and seeing only various whisky glasses and old bottles of alcohol, he made his final _Evanesco_ and vanished the entire dresser.

Hermione had closed and secured the trunk, and he aimed his wand at it and shrunk it as small as he dared, to the size of a small book, and tucked it securely inside his coat. Taking the folder from her, he explained that it contained the muggle deeds and paperwork that pertained to the house, his proof of ownership, and his muggle identication. She amused herself by laughing at the still photograph in his United Kingdom passport, and expressing surprise that he held a driving licence.

"That is rich coming from a young lady who is yet to master control of a broom," he smirked, taking the papers gently from her hand.

"How did you know that?"

"I was your teacher for seven years, Miss Granger, there is very little about students that escapes my attention. Your regular absence from the Quidditch pitch and your low scores from Madam Hooch would suggest that flying is not a large part of your, admittedly formidable, repertoire."

She shot him an angry look, and he privately thought she looked incredibly sexy when he provoked her; it was only the absence of any furniture, and the desire to be rid of Spinners End forever that prevented him from kissing her back to good humour.

"I am now going to remove the wards from the house, and after that, the Fidelius charm that Dumbledore placed upon here. This will leave us unprotected, but no more so than we are outside of the house. You may feel a discomfiting sensation."

He drew his wand and stood in the centre of the small, empty living room, casting in Latin and using complicated but precise movements with his wand arm that Hermione had not seen before. She felt a shudder run through her as the wards fell, and when he spoke the incantation to reverse a Fidelius charm, there was a sense of fear within her that was difficult to explain.

"As magical beings, we can feel the protection leaving a house. It is attuned to our magical cores as a form of protection, so that we may be alerted to an unsafe environment," he offered, by way of explanation.

"And is this an unsafe environment?"

"Is it now. This is why I left the removal of the wards and the Fidelius Charm until the last possible moment. We know there are Death Eaters at large in England, many of whom would gladly complete the snake's task of ripping my throat out if they had the opportunity. If any of them were to search for the residence of Severus Snape at this exact moment, they would now be able to find me."

Hermione looked at him in horror.

"Which is why we must not tarry here. We need to get to the property developer's office immediately and transfer ownership of this house before any damage can be done."

"Do you think that is a possibility?" she asked, scared by his words, despite the calm way in which they were being delivered.

"I trust no one that bears the Dark Mark. Come."

\- xxx -

Later that day, as the sun was starting the final part of its descent below the horizon, Hermione and Severus were standing by the low fence at the end of the cottage garden, looking out at their beautiful view across the beach, and sea beyond. They had a glass of wine in hand each, and a tempting smell was emanating from the open cottage door, where Severus had a tender lamb stew slow-cooking on the hob for their supper.

After a blisteringly-fast visit to the Cokeworth property developer, where Hermione had felt Severus' _Confundus_ charm hit the man behind the desk before the office door had even closed behind them, the transfer of 57 Spinners End had been effected immediately. The developer was indeed buying up as many of the properties in that street as he could and made an offer that Severus had felt was more than generous considering how much he hated the house, and he had handed over the deeds and keys in exchange for the funds being electronically deposited into his muggle bank account.

He had then apparated immediately to Diagon Alley and visited Gringott's to convert the pounds into Galleons in order to have the cleared funds ready to start looking for his new residence, and hopefully, a place from which to begin his self-employment as a Master Potioneer. Whilst he was doing this, Hermione had apparated to the Ministry apparition foyer, and headed for the Magical Patents and Registration Office to pick up a stack of application parchments for new potion patents, for he had many others to register besides the hangover potion.

She had run into many friends and colleagues at the Ministry and had easily lost track of time. By the time she returned to the cottage, Severus had been food shopping and had already started dinner. She decided that now would be as good a time as any to sheepishly confess her lack of culinary expertise, to which he had tenderly kissed her lips, pressed a glass of wine into her hand and told her that she couldn't expect to be outstanding at _everything_ , and told her in a mock-patronising tone that _he_ would handle the cooking and broomstick flying.

At her petulant pout, he had smacked her round little arse and sent her out into the last rays of sun in the garden, where he soon joined her to watch the sunset over the horizon.

He snaked his arm around her waist, and she leaned her head on his shoulder. He had made bigger strides to secure his future in this one single day, with Hermione's support, than he had made in the last twenty years.

And yet still the words, _I love you_ , floundered and died upon his tongue.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

On Sunday morning, their final day in the cottage together before Hermione was due back to work at the Ministry after her week of annual leave, they were sitting together on the large sofa; the sliding windows open to let in the bright sunlight and a warm but crisp breeze blowing in from the sea.

Neither had bothered to get dressed thus far, Severus was wearing his grey lounge pants and tshirt as was now his habit, and Hermione had remained in her pyjamas with a baggy jumper pulled over the top to keep out any chill. They sat facing each other at either end of the comfortable sofa, a long chenille blanket pulled over both their legs, spread out with a mass of parchments and newspapers, searching together for suitable available premises for Severus to work from, and making lists of potential potions that he could apply for Ministry patent upon.

"The apothecary in Hogsmeade is up for sale," she remarked, passing him a sheet pulled from the Daily Prophet.

He gave it a cursory look.

"I do not wish to run an apothecary or a shop of any kind," he stated, simply. "Especially not one in such close proximity to Hogwarts. However, I shall keep my eye on the sale of this one, since I intend to sell direct to apothecaries and a new owner may be well-placed to consider a new supplier. Thank you."

He took the page from her and placed it under a heavy paperweight on the coffee table next to him.

"What do you intend to offer for sale directly to apothecaries?" she enquired, her curiosity piqued by his statement.

"Basic remedies, such as those I provide for the school infirmary. For example Pepper-Up, Strengthening Solution, Skele-Gro, blemish creams, cough and cold tinctures, pain relief potions and so forth. These are purchased in bulk at a reduced price by the apothecary owner and sold for a profit in the shop."

"Interesting. So would that mean a lot of your time would be taken up with basic brewing rather than the research and experimentation you wish to do?"

"At first, yes. Sadly a financially stable business will not build up overnight and I need to make a profit so that I can plough these into my research. I am well used to brewing large quantities of stock for the infirmary outside of my teaching duties so it should not tax me too much. I also intend to market my exclusive potions, the ones I believe you are currently making a list of over there?"

She waved the parchment she had been making notes upon.

"Advanced Wolfsbane. But the distribution and marketing of that is likely to be restricted to authorised suppliers such as St Mungo's and recognised Healers, since the plan is to have a national register of all werewolves on the potion."

"Indeed. It sounds like someone is getting ahead of themselves before the potion is approved." He raised a teasing eyebrow at her.

"It will be approved. You have no idea of the amount of work I am going to present to Esther tomorrow morning. I know exactly how your potion can be used for the good of the lycanthropic community and the wizarding world as a whole."

He smiled at her youthful enthusiasm and desire to change the world, but really, where would he be now without it? Still stagnating in the school dungeons with nothing to look forward to other than his own eventual death. The thought of returning to his chambers and his classroom with all these plans running riot in his head was actually quite an unpleasant one, so he bade for her to continue reading from the list she had been making.

"Hangover potion, definitely. That was nothing short of a miracle cure. It needs a name though. Head Settler? Grog-be-Gone? Morning After?"

"Morning After sounds like an emergency contraceptive," he smirked, although he appreciated that his nameless creations would indeed need labelling for marketing purposes.

"Speaking of contraceptives, what about the one you brew for me, is that your own?"

"No, it is a standard thistle-based contraceptive formula."

"But the taste is so good. From what I have heard from other witches, monthly contraceptive potions are generally so foul that many employ other methods such as charms to prevent pregnancy."

"The taste booster is my own invention. I began to experiment with different flavourings to conceal the obnoxious taste of the Wolfsbane when I was brewing it monthly for Lupin. He used to complain so much that for the sake of my own eardrums I decided to look for a solution."

"You didn't find one, did you?"

"I did not. The threads of the diced aconite that constitute Wolfsbane are so fragile that any attempt to add a more pleasant flavouring to make the concoction more palatable renders the potion entirely useless."

"But, it can be used on other potions, such as contraceptives?"

"It can, indeed."

Her chin dropped in shock.

"But, Severus, do you realise what this means?"

"I believe I have a fair idea, being a wizard of no small brain."

"You can market practically any potion you wish, adding the taste booster, and it can be patented! A lemon flavour Skele-Gro or a peppermint pepper-up!"

She sat up straight and tapped her crossed legs with excitement, the potential for Severus' creations becoming clearer and more intoxicating by the minute.

"And what about paediatric potions? Mothers find it difficult to get their infants and toddlers to take potions due to the taste, you could create a whole range of better tasting remedies specifically for small children?"

"I had not thought of paediatrics specifically, but yes, I could indeed." He smirked outright, his eyes full of mischief.

"Hang on ..."

A thought had just occurred to her, and she was finally catching up to where his mind was currently lingering.

"You have done this already can't you?"

His eyes continued to glitter in amusement.

"So why is the hospital wing always full of those gruesome-tasting potions that Madam Pomfrey foists upon us for every ailment?"

He barked out a laugh, no longer able to hold it in.

"Consider it my petty revenge against the dunderhead populace of Hogwarts," he replied, greatly amused by the outrage on her face.

" _That_ is mean."

"Did I not always advise you that I am _not_ a nice man? You will note that _your_ contraceptives and hangover potions have always been provided well-dosed with taste booster."

"Well, I suppose I should be grateful for that," she muttered, placated.

"No gratitude needed. I am only too happy to provide the witch who sits regularly on the end of my cock with the best service I can."

She threw a cushion, hitting him smartly on the forehead and eliciting a warning look.

"I do not believe you wish to fight me, Hermione."

"Not _yet_ , anyway," she shot back. "We have work to complete first."

The meaningful look she eyed him with went straight to his prick and he felt a rush of blood head straight down there. Damn her, and the sweet smile she gave him too; a quick flick of her eyes to his groin meant she knew exactly what had happened, too.

\- xxx –

Even after a quick sandwich lunch, they were still hard at work.

"With the volume of potential work here, Severus, I cannot see that you are going to be able to work alone, not even from the beginning. _You_ will need to visit potential clients yourself, for _you_ are the business, but the brewing will need to be started. Even you, with your plethora of talent, cannot be in two places at once."

"What are you suggesting?"

"An apprentice. And possibly an assistant or two, fairly soon down the line. You are a qualified Potions Master; you can mentor an apprentice through their mastery, using them to brew the basic potions, teaching them the complex ones. And then assistants, to pack and post, stock and shop, brew and clean."

He stared at her as though she had just grown a second head.

"I have never in all my teaching career taken an apprentice."

"Well, maybe it is time to break with tradition."

"You can think of someone who could work one-on-one with myself on a regular basis? Unless you are offering your own services, I am not sure I know someone whom I could either tolerate, or whom could tolerate _me_."

"Draco," she replied, immediately.

"Malfoy? You're suggesting I hire Malfoy as an apprentice?"

"Think about it, Severus. Draco was always one of the top-performing students in Potions class, as much as it pains me to admit it, even right from the start you knew he had a natural skill, you told the class as such. Plus, he actually _likes_ you."

Severus tapped his finger against his lips and scowled.

"You said you don't trust anyone with a Dark Mark and I appreciate that, but Draco was not branded by choice, you told me that yourself. He was not even of age and used by Voldemort as a pawn to punish his father. I know for a fact that he barely leaves Malfoy Manor, he can't find employment and I can't find a single person who'd admit to being his friend."

There could be some sense in the idea she was proposing. He had nurtured Draco's prodigious talent for potions from a young age, often providing private tuition before the boy came of Hogwarts age. He had continued to excel through his years at school, often bettered only by Hermione herself in practical lessons. No one but the Malfoys knew that it had been them who had saved his life in the Shrieking Shack, on Draco's insistence, bringing him home to Malfoy Manor and employing Healers at their own expense to ensure he survived. He owed them a life debt, at the very least.

But even more than that, he saw in Draco the same conflicted young man that he had once been himself, albeit coming from a life of comfort and privilege, but with no more choices and rather less freedom than the half-blood millworker's son.

Had he, Severus, not killed Dumbledore in order to save Draco Malfoy's soul from damage? What kind of man would he be now to allow this young man to languish at home, wasting his gifts and talents?

"Your idea holds merit," he rumbled, at length. "I shall visit upon Malfoy Manor this week and speak with Draco. And stop smiling. Your infernal talent for good ideas is starting to grate upon me."

She swished her wand with a firm stroke and all the papers that had been lying on their laps between them arranged themselves in a neat pile under the paperweight on the coffee table. She crawled across the blanket and plonked herself in his lap, wrapping her pyjama-clad legs around him and putting her arms around his neck.

"I think that's enough for today. I have an early start tomorrow so I don't want to be up late tonight," she told him, kissing his frown away from his forehead.

"Might I suggest a _particularly_ early night for you then?"

He looked down his long nose at the smiling witch in his lap, whom he really did find so wonderfully infuriating.

"I was hoping it would be an early night for _us_ , rather than just for me?"

"Are you propositioning me, Hermione?"

"Perhaps, Severus."

"Are you wearing a bra under that jumper?"

The conversation took a predictable turn, if the rapidly-swelling erection beneath her bottom was anything to go by.

"Why don't you find out for yourself?"

Not needing to be told twice, he slid his cold hands up the back of her jumper and beneath the skimpy vest top of her pyjamas, feeling only warm, velvety-soft skin under his searching palms, which he stroked all over her back before moving around to the front and cupping himself a bare breast in each hand. He began to thumb her nipples and was gratified to feel them harden under his touch.

"Might I suggest the early night starts now and persuade you to accompany me upstairs? I shall bring you tea and toast for supper ... much later on."

He gave her a wicked smile as he touched his forehead to hers, thoroughly enjoying his exploration of her excellent tits held warm and full in his large hands, rejoicing in the knowledge that her answer would only be yes.

\- xxx –

Hermione strode in the offices of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures in an ebullient mood, a large satchel of parchments crammed full with ideas and research swinging from her shoulder, and the enthusiasm for work that only came from having a thoroughly good week off on annual leave.

Esther waved a silent hand in greeting; she was dictating a memo and indicated she would speak once she was done. Hermione settled herself at her desk, checking her in-tray for anything that had been placed there during her absence, and ensuring everything was in order for the day ahead.

Pridmore Ulbrecht approached her desk, bid her good morning and perched on the corner of the heavy wood surface.

"I have Caspar Bergin from Potions Research at St Mungo's coming in for a meeting this afternoon, at his own request, I might add. He has asked for an appointment with yourself and Esther, since you were the ones who submitted a potion for testing. I shall be present of course, as your Head of Department." He said pompously, eyeing the large pile of parchments that Hermione had pulled from her bag.

"Oh? Is there a problem with the testing being done on the Advanced Wolfsbane potion?"

"There is no problem, quite the opposite. They are ready to provide their conclusion. Apparently the research and experimentation they received from your source Severus Snape was so wholly complete that there was little they needed to do but ensure the potion was not toxic and complete their own brews using his formula. I am quite certain that they will be seeking approval and funding to move on to human testing."

"Human testing?" she replied, unable to believe what she had just heard.

"That's what I said. A cross-section of werewolves, willing to participate in a testing programme to ensure that the potion performs consistently well over a sustained period of time, the main concern of course being whether there is any deterioration in the effectiveness of a stored potion as opposed to the usual freshly brewed in a smoking goblet form of Wolfsbane."

"You said human testing, Pridmore. _Human_ testing. Do you consider those afflicted by lycanthropy to be human? If werewolves are considered humans why are they under the regulation and control of our department at all? We are in charge of magical _creatures_ , not magical humans. _Humans_ are ..."

"Registered and protected by the laws of the Ministry of Magic, just as they should be."

Hermione looked up to see that Esther had finished her memo and had now joined herself and Pridmore at her desk.

"And that, Ulbrecht, is the basis of our case that we intend to take before the Wizengamot. Werewolves are not magical creatures, like unicorns or bowtruckles, they are not even part-human, like centaurs. They are _human_ wizards and witches who suffered attacks that left them with a lifelong physical condition that needs treatment and understanding, not censure, castigation or regulation."

"It is scandalous that werewolves have been treated in this way for so long," Hermione took up the refrain of the script that her and Esther knew so well. "Living with employment restrictions that leave them so poor they struggle to even feed and clothe themselves, let alone live meaningful lives or raise families."

Pridmore looked at them sceptically.

"And you intend to take this request for legislation change to the Wizengamot yourselves, do you?"

"We do," Esther replied, defiantly. "Obviously we'd prefer your support and backing, but if you feel you can't be involved them we'll do it by ourselves."

"I shall what Healer Bergin has to say when he arrives this afternoon," Pridmore muttered, non-committally, before returning to his own desk in a shuttered corner of the office.

"He didn't like that, did he?" Hermione said to her friend and colleague, who had now pulled up a chair beside her desk, eager to catch up after a week apart.

"Oh, he's all bluster, ignore him. This werewolf reform could be the biggest thing to happen to this department for decades, and trust me; he'll want to make sure his name is all over it if it looks like it's going to be a success. But anyway, enough about him, I've just been replying to the Potions Research department at St Mungo's, it sounds like old Snapey's formula for Advanced Wolfsbane does exactly what it says on the tin?"

"Of course it does," Hermione smiled absent-mindedly, so proud of what Severus had achieved and excited for the recognition it would bring him.

"How on earth did you get it from him? I'm guessing it's not something that came up in Potions class?"

"No, it is not something he teaches, rather something he has been working on privately for a while, since we had a werewolf teaching at Hogwarts, do you remember a Remus Lupin a few years ago?"

"Certainly. I think everybody heard of the case of the mysterious and maligned Lupin. Shame about him, and his wife. I liked Tonks, everyone did. She was like a breath of fresh air in the Auror office."

"I miss them terribly," Hermione admitted. "I think it is awful they won't see their son grow up."

"You know Pridmore has ordered testing on the Lupin baby?"

"WHAT?"

"There are very few known cases of werewolf breeding. The Ministry will want the child's full blood and medical status confirmed."

"But, but, Teddy's a metamorphmagus, like his mother was! I've seen him! There isn't a bit of werewolf blood in him!"

"But sadly, there is. Like it or not, he has genetically half-werewolf blood. He will need testing."

"That's terrible."

"It will be done sensitively I'm sure. Especially as the baby is already over a year old and has shown no signs of transformation, I have confidence it will be just a formality."

Hermione swung away on her chair, unimpressed at the news.

"But anyway, you didn't answer my question, how did you find out about the Advanced Wolfsbane from Snape? I'm guessing the miserable old git hasn't started meeting up in the dungeon classroom for jolly cups of tea and meaningful chats with ex-students every weekend? He hated us all. What's the connection?"

Taken unawares, Hermione stared fixatedly at the desk as she felt herself blush scarlet from the roots of her hair down to her chest, her heart thumping wildly and a revolting cold chill rolled down her back. Esther was far too smart to miss even one of those signs and jumped to her feet.

"Oh! Oh! Weekends! You!"

She babbled incoherently, pointing at Hermione and walking round in a confused circle on the spot as a month's worth of events finally slipped into place.

"Esther, stop it! Sssh, be quiet!" Hermione pleaded, pulling on her colleague's arm to stop her frantic pacing on the spot.

"Be quiet? Never! You ... you and ... him? Oh bloody Merlin are you fu ...?"

Her enthusiastic tirade was cut off by Hermione casting the strongest _Muffliato_ around the two of them that she could manage, thankfully blocking their conversation from the remainder of the office staff. The two of them stood staring at one another, both blushing and short of breath, but for entirely different reasons.

"Well, I'll be damned. Little Hermione Granger. I'll tell you what, darling, I've had more than my share of wizards as you know, but not even _I_ would go after the untouchable, impenetrable, darkly handsome but frankly _terrifying_ Professor Snape. I take my hat off to you. We all fancied him at school, him being only a few years older than us when he started teaching. Well, since the next male professor was about sixty he didn't leave us much choice for a crush. We were fucking terrified of him, obviously, but he was ... thoroughly intriguing. And you let him pop your fucking cherry! No wonder you were shitting yourself, love."

Hermione did not answer and allowed Esther to draw breath and calm herself. All she could think was _Fuuuuck_.

"So, you shit me not, you are telling me that you are fucking Severus Snape? On a regular basis? Like, he is your lover, your boyfriend? Or was this a one-time thing?" She wiggled her eyebrows in what Hermione presumed was supposed to be a suggestive manner.

"I haven't actually told you anything, Esther," Hermione retorted, as haughtily as she could manage. "So far this is all conjecture on your part."

"Oh, come off it. We know each other better than that. Plus the fact your face looks like a tomato kind of gives it away."

Hermione's hands flew to her face, which was indeed burning hot.

"You're not going to give me _any_ of the gory details, are you?" Esther looked quite put out.

"Not one."

"But he _is_ the wizard you've been seeing?"

"He is."

"And shagging?"

" _Obviously_."

"You even sound like him! I can't think why I didn't notice this before. Look, darling, who you sleep with is entirely your business, but let me just say, I'm impressed at your daring. No wonder I never see you hanging around in the atrium waiting for a chance to chat with the hunky Auror trainees. You hit the fucking jackpot the very time you got fucked! I bet that dark wizard shags like a fucking _demon_."

Hermione could not help the grin that spread across her face, despite her annoyance with Esther's nosiness. If there was a fucking jackpot, she had indeed hit it.

"And there's the not inconsiderable bonus, that your man is about to become life-alteringly, stinkingly rich off the back of this Advanced Wolfsbane potion. I'm sure that'll be enough to explain to anyone why you're with him."

Esther smirked in closure, cancelled the _Muffliato_ and returned to her desk.

 _No,_ Hermione thought, _that's not why I'm with him at all._

Suddenly, all she wanted to do was be back at the cottage with Severus. Back at _home._


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

Severus was assaulted with an unpleasant memory as he apparated smoothly to the gates of Malfoy Manor. Notwithstanding the months he had spent here recuperating after the final battle, where he had been on the brink of death on arrival so he did not remember anything at all about the journey to get here, the last time he had been requesting entrance at these gates was to the final Death Eater meeting before Voldemort had ordered the storming of Hogwarts castle.

He failed to suppress a shudder of revulsion as he touched his wand to the gates, and they opened at the recognition of his magical signature, Lucius must have set the wards to allow him entry. Although it was actually more likely that it would be Narcissa setting them, since Lucius was not even one year in to his five-year sentence bound in the magic-supressing cuffs; the wearing of which was the sole reason for keeping him out of Azkaban with the other captured Death Eaters.

As stalked down the gravel path, his black travelling cloak billowing behind him, he gave the lazily ambling white peacocks his usual cursory glare. Pretentious, overgrown pigeons that Lucius had once been so proud of, they now looked as depressed and defeated as their white-haired owner.

He approached the huge front door, stepping lightly up the half-a-dozen steps that led up to it. Before he could lift the huge serpent knocker, the door was opened by a scruffy-looking house-elf who ushered him inside. Lucius was almost as quick, and was striding across the main vestibule as Severus stepped over the threshold, his hand extended in greeting.

"Severus, old friend. It is good to see you looking so well. Hogwarts is treating you satisfactorily I hope? Your health is good?"

"The same as ever, Lucius. And my health is excellent, although it can hardly be anything but with that interfering Medi-Witch on my back every second of the live-long day."

"Ah, the lovely Madam Pomfrey. I remember well. I am sure I fancied her at some point during my school career."

"I am certain you did not. She would have been well into her fifties even by the time you were a student. In any event she is currently a thorn in the side of my peaceful existence, so fastidious is she at checking my state of health, she even watches my food consumption like a hawk."

"I am glad to hear it. You are still on the scrawny side, Severus, much as you ever were," he guffawed, patting his own belly, which had begun to bulge over the waistband of his trousers during the long days of incarceration in his own home, with only the diversion of the excellent house-elf cooking to entertain him.

"I bid you not to comment on the current state of my figure. I should have no compunction in hexing you where you stand."

"You would hex a wizard who is a virtual Squib?"

He held up his wrists in supplication, as if in an attempt to curry sympathy.

"Without hesitation," Severus smirked.

"So what brings you here, old friend? I was most pleased to receive your owl yesterday."

"Actually, I find myself in need of Draco. I have a matter of some importance to discuss with him."

"What?"

A tired but youthful voice could be heard from the top of the grand staircase. Severus looked up and saw Draco, his skin paler than he had ever seen it, and dark circles under his eyes that matched his father's.

"It is not polite to eavesdrop, Draco," Lucius chided.

Draco ignored his father completely, a look of contempt upon his face. It seemed to Severus that the younger Malfoy appeared to have lost all respect for the father he once revered. With everything that Lucius had put his son through, the only surprise was that it had taken this long for the rose-tinted glasses to fall.

"Good morning, Draco."

"Good morning, Sir. It is good to see you."

Draco began to descend the wide staircase, his white hand trailing down the ornate banister.

"Might I bid you to take a turn about the gardens with me, Draco? I have a matter of some importance that I should like your opinion on."

" _My_ opinion? Who is interested in what I think?"

" _I_ am," he snapped, sharply. "Now come."

Lucius made to follow but Severus put his hand upon the blond wizard's chest to stop him.

"Let me talk with the boy alone, Lucius. He is of age, and can make his own decisions. If he wishes to impart what we have discussed after I have left, that is his choice."

Lucius looked at his son's former Head of House with undisguised loathing.

"Trust me, Lucius." Severus continued, his black eyes meeting with Malfoy's ice-blue ones.

Lucius' expression softened somewhat, and he waved them out the back doors that led to the manicured gardens that were Narcissa's pride and joy.

\- xxx –

Once they had reached the end of the path, a good enough distance from the house to ensure they were not overheard, Severus began to impart his plan to Draco without preamble.

"I know that the past year has been difficult for you, Draco."

The young man rolled his eyes and let out a _tut_ of exasperation.

"I will thank you to listen to me like the grown wizard that you are, rather than the schoolboy I remember. We are not at Hogwarts anymore, and you will find the favouritism to which you were so accustomed, sorely lacking in the adult world."

"I apologise, Professor. Please, continue." Draco replied; chastened by the one teacher he had always respected during his student years.

"What we are about to discuss here, is a confidential matter between the two of us. With your consent, I would like to place a spell of agreement between us that you will not divulge what we speak of to anyone else."

"I agree. There's no one I speak to now, anyway."

"No self-pity, please Draco. It does not become you."

He raised his wand and cast a charm between the two of them, and it enveloped them for a few seconds in a green powdery mist, the remains of which he could see settling in Draco's white-blond hair.

"Might I ask your future plans?"

Draco looked at him in surprise.

"My future plans? There is nothing. I bear the Dark Mark. My friends have distanced themselves from me. Right now I can see nothing in my future other than existing here for the rest of my days."

Although he had expected an answer such as this, Severus was surprised by his reaction to hearing it directly from the mouth of his former top student, the young wizard for whom he he had blackened his own soul to save. He recognised well the signs of depression and self-loathing, and even more so since he had began his relationship with Hermione, who had been so gradually and so subtly pulling him out of his dark cloud that he was immediately struck with how far he had come in a few short weeks, to be able to recognise the signs of mental illness in another.

Draco was clearly depressed, and mostly likely suffering from some kind of post traumatic stress disorder just like his own. One did not generally escape Voldemort's service mentally unscathed. What had helped _him_ was having a purpose, a reason to live. He was in a position to offer Draco the same. Hermione once again astounded him with her perceptiveness, no doubt she'd already had all this in her mind when she put forward Draco's name as a potential candidate.

"I intend to shortly tender my resignation to Headmistress McGonagall."

Draco looked up in surprise.

"What?"

"It is my intention to move forward with my life, to cease stagnating in the Hogwarts dungeons. I cannot change what is past, but I can make efforts to make sure that my future is the one I desire."

"Have you been in some kind of counselling?" Draco's face contorted in confusion and slight derision.

"I have not. Counselling is for muggles. Suffice to say I have finally _seen the light_ , as it were. I intend to begin my own potions research and production business and I require an apprentice. That apprentice will assist in all facets of my potioneering business and I return I will mentor and tutor them to become a qualified Master of Potions themselves. I should like to offer _you_ the position."

"What?"

"Such an extensive vocabulary, Mr Malfoy. I believe I made myself quite clear." Severus drawled, unnecessarily inspecting his fingernails.

"But, why me?"

"I seem to remember you possessing a modicum of talent in my classroom above that of the rest of the dunderheads. I require an apprentice, who can assist with the brewing and other duties involved in the new business. You require employment, a mentor and in general, something to do with your life rather than sitting here turning into your father."

Draco opened his mouth, Severus guessed it was to leap to his father's defence as was his habit, but then closed it again, and seemed deep in thought.

"I shall take your silence as a _thank you Professor Snape, please tell me more_." Severus raised his eyebrow at his former student in expectation.

"I apologise, Sir. I am just very surprised at your offer, it was unexpected."

"Clearly. I intend to start the business this summer, after serving my required term's notice at Hogwarts. I had planned to stay longer, but it seems that I may be able to make a success of things early on, and I do not wish to waste any more of my life in those thrice-damned dungeons than I already have done."

"This is most unlike you, Professor."

"Do not presume to know me, Draco. No doubt we will get to know each on a professional level when we are working together, rather than the teacher and student relationship that we currently have. I am also aware that we share several rather less pleasant memories, and I will make it clear now that these are not to be discussed."

The two wizards sat down on a stone bench overlooking the large pond, overlaid with wide, floppy waterlilies, and stared at each other. Flashes of atrocities that had occurred at Death Eater revels passed through Severus' mind, and he had no doubt through Draco's as well. These were memories of humiliation, abuse and torture that both of them had been forced to endure in front of the other. In truth, their relationship was much more than professor and student. They both needed to forget. They were both survivors.

"The length of time is takes to complete a Mastery in Potions is four years. With hard work on both our parts I believe we can get you through it in three."

"How long did you take to complete yours?"

"Two. But you are not me, Draco. Nor do you have the terror of the Dark Lord behind you, pressuring you to complete your training."

"I am sorry."

"Do not be sorry. During the course of your training I will allow you no more than three serious errors of judgement. On the third serious error of judgement our arrangement will be terminated. Brewing errors are expected. Poor judgement is not. I will teach you everything I know, and include you in everything that I am still learning, for a true Master never believes he knows enough, or ever stops educating himself. I intend to travel widely for research, attending lectures on current practices, participating in trials. I shall teach you the way I always wished to be taught. I believe you have experienced enough of my teaching to understand the way I work?"

Draco nodded, flushed with excitement at his former teacher's words; a pinkness had appeared in his wan face that had not been present for a long time.

"Parkinson's father once took her to an Alchemy convention during the summer holidays; do you mean those kinds of lectures?"

"There is world of difference between a convention and a series of academic lectures. Besides, Alchemy is the transformation of matter, you will be studying Potions. Don't be an idiot before you even begin."

"When can I start?" Draco was clearly enthused, and ignored the slight tone of derision in Severus' voice. Besides, he had become inured to Snape's pique, over the years.

He drew his wand from his sleeve and conjured a parchment in the air, shooting a long list across the page with a wave of his hand.

"This is a list of all books that I believe it would be pertinent for you to read prior to us beginning your apprenticeship. I have copies of them all, of course, but if you are going to be a qualified potions master in your own right you will need to begin building your own library. Thankfully, I know your family well enough to know that the cost of purchasing several new books will not cause any significant financial problem."

Draco smirked.

"I expect you to work above and beyond the best of your ability. We cannot lie to ourselves, Draco, it will be a challenge for us to restore our reputations. You and I are the only bearers of the Dark Mark who currently have their liberty. We cannot be seen as anything less than competent. We must go above and beyond to prove our capabilities."

"You can rely on me, Sir."

"I certainly hope my faith in you is not misplaced."

Draco nodded sharply and folded the parchment, slipping it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

"Do you need me to sign anything?"

"I will require you to sign the standard master and apprentice contracts once we formally begin, this is for both our protection. Until then, the agreement charm I placed between us will suffice. Once I have premises, I will appreciate your help to begin setting up our work space, whilst I am engaged at Hogwarts. I trust that you have no constraints on your time?"

"None at all. I'll be glad of the occupation."

"During the course of this preparation it is likely you will meet with ... my girlfriend, who has been and will be assisting me with this process and transition. You will treat her with nothing but courtesy and respect, is that clear?"

Draco let out an involuntary snort, and looked as if he was about to fall from the bench in shock.

"You have a girlfriend? _You_?"

Severus stood up, and drew himself to his full height, looking down his nose at his new apprentice, his black eyes closed and unreadable.

"And that, Mr Malfoy, was your first serious error of judgement. Let there not be a second."

He swept his cloak around himself and apparated with a loud and obnoxious _crack_ , leaving Draco gaping and smiling in equal measure on his own garden bench, his heart filled with a joy and sense of thrilling anticipation that he had not felt for a very long time.

\- xxx –

Hermione and Esther were crammed in Pridmore's small office along with Healer Bergin from St Mungo's, whom, Severus was correct, did indeed resemble Horace Slughorn in a number of ways, just a lot younger. He had brought with him two wizards who formed part of his potions research team, and the six of them were all politely pretending that they were perfectly comfortable packed in like sardines.

Bergin had given his report to the witches, studiously ignoring Pridmore, confirming that the Advanced Wolfsbane was indeed safe to begin human trials, and that consideration would need to be given to brewing, since the level of difficulty meant it could only be brewed safely by a potioneer qualified to Mastery level and in a controlled environment.

"I have advised Professor Snape to quit Hogwarts and trade as a private potioneer. If this performs as he says it will, and I have no reason to doubt his research, he could make a living by the production of this alone. It took me a while to convince him of the seriousness of my suggestion."

Hermione felt her insides swoop at this praise of her wizard, but was annoyed when she saw Esther grinning at her indiscreetly from the corner of her eye.

"How long will the human trials take?"

She attempted to distract Esther by asking questions of the visiting Healers.

"I would suggest three to six months, Miss Granger. We need to see if the efficacy of the potion deteriorates over time, and whether the required relief is obtained for the werewolf at the time of transformation each month."

"For example," one of his younger colleagues began, "the stored potion may be effective the first month, but on the second, third, fourth month it may have lost some of its potency, meaning that the relief from the transformation is not complete. The werewolf may not retain the full use of his own mind, or other such ill effect."

"I understand, that would be extremely dangerous, Healer ...?"

"Healer Bergin," he smiled.

"Bergin?"

"This is my son," Caspar Bergin replied, proudly. "Healer and Researcher David Bergin."

David Bergin smiled at Hermione warmly, and she saw something familiar in his knowing brown eyes, a lingering sadness that she felt she already knew. He looked at her a little longer than was strictly professional.

"And do you need my permission for all this?" Pridmore blustered, keen to find a way into the conversation.

"We do not," replied Caspar, politely, although his smile did not quite reach his eyes.

"The testing for potion safety was requested by Miss Granger and Miss Miller, who gave their authorisation. The potion was submitted directly to our department by Professor Snape, whom holds the patent pending, and it is from him that we sought approval to start human testing. Should your department be interested in the Advanced Wolfsbane, as part of the reform proposals that I know Hermione and Esther are keen to implement, you should address all enquiries to myself at the St Mungo's Potion Research Department and we will be glad to advise you."

Both Hermione and Esther were delighted to see Pridmore's mouth snap shut in annoyance.

"Healer Bergin, Hermione and I will be interested in the results of the human testing as soon as they become available, and we have registered that interest in writing with your department."

"Indeed they have," interjected David, "they are working on a proposal for a complete reform of the restrictions upon werewolf employment, and the viability of this potion I believe is vital to their being successful."

"Very well," grumbled Pridmore, clearly put out at being ignored in his own office. "Esther I will leave this in your capable hands. Now, I have an awful lot to do, could one or both of you girls escort our visitors to the Atrium?"

He began to shuffle the papers on his desk importantly, as if that would demonstrate how terribly busy he was. Hermione and Esther rose gratefully to their feet, wanting to berate Pridmore for disrespectfully referring to them as _girls_ in front of their professional visitors, but nonetheless ushered the three Healers from the tiny office space.

They chatted as they walked to the lifts, and down to the vast Atrium.

"Do you think you will have difficulty finding werewolves to participate in the trial?" Esther asked Caspar, as they paused by the fountain on their way to the public apparition foyer.

"Oh no," he smiled. "In fact, testing has already begun. A great many excellent wizards and witches have been waiting for a breakthrough like this for too long now."

"I found the potion putrid, but bearable, and wholly worth it, considering what it represents for me."

Hermione and Esther whirled around to face David, who smiling broadly at them.

"You're ... you are ...?"

"A werewolf? Yes. And so is Orion here."

"Are you not subject to employment restrictions?" Hermione blurted out, before covering her mouth with her hand, making both David and Orion chuckle.

"We are, but luckily since we work in Potions Research, a perk of the job is an unlimited supply of fresh Wolfsbane each month. We brew our own. St Mungo's is aware of our status, but let us just say that Pridmore Ulbrecht, and the department for werewolf regulation and control ... are not."

"I'll say," Esther beamed, emitting a low whistle at their daring. "So, you've begun your first cycle with Snape's potion already then?"

"We have," replied David, answering Esther but appearing unable to tear his gaze from Hermione. "Father has arranged for secure quarters at St Mungo's with surveillance during the full moon, and our transformation will not only be observed but we will also report ourselves upon our state of mind throughout."

"Miss Miller, Miss Granger."

Caspar was looking at the two witches with eyes full of watery emotion.

"I would do anything, _anything_ , to assist my son to have a meaningful life, free from the fear of persecution or unemployment. I want him to be free to raise a family, marry; do only what other young wizards do. Why should he have to hide through no fault of his own? He is lucky, with my position and his own talent for medical research, not forgetting Orion here also; they are able to exist fairly well. But there are thousands of lycanthropes who are not so fortunate. What of them?"

Esther placed her hand upon the old Healer's arm.

"That is what Hermione and I are working for. Trust me."

He patted her hand and clutched it hard.

"I have trust in you, young lady. And my team will do whatever we possibly can to assist you."

David had approached Hermione and lightly touched her arm, standing before her, a little closer than she was comfortable with.

"You knew Remus. He was a rallying point for the werewolves during the war."

"I did, I knew him and his wife well, and yes I know he spent a lot time trying to persuade the lycanthropic community away from joining Voldemort."

"We did not join him," he indicated himself and Orion. "Our status has always been hidden outside the walls of St Mungo's. We could not risk exposing ourselves. I now find my actions incredibly cowardly when Remus died for the cause."

That explained the sadness she had noticed in David's eyes. There were few who remained untouched by the horrors of the war.

"If you hadn't, you might not be here now to undertake this important research," she reassured. "What you are doing now, risking your own health for a new cause, a cause that may free many persecuted people, is bravery enough."

David nodded, seemingly as overcome as his father. The three men bid Hermione and Esther goodbye with handshakes and promises to keep in regular contact, before turning and heading for the apparition foyer to return to St Mungo's.

The two witches looked at each other, glee in their faces at what they had discovered.

"Well darling, if that doesn't get our arses into gear on this project, I don't know what will." Esther grinned, hands on hips and puffing her lips out in a big breath.

"I have no intention of being awarded anything but an Outstanding," Hermione replied, pulling her colleague and friend back towards the lift.

There was just a couple of hours left of the working day before she could finally apparate home. She had so very much to tell the dark wizard waiting back at the cottage for her, but more than anything she just wanted to be enveloped in his strong arms, and feel the reassuring thump of his heart.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

As she packed up her desk that evening, Hermione grabbed hold of Esther as her colleague walked past, calling her goodbyes.

"Esther. Just to clarify, that the information that you happen to know regarding mine and Severus' relationship is completely private. You are aware of this, aren't you?"

Esther smirked at the younger witch.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, darling. If you want to keep your dark jackpot joy a secret then who am I to spoil your fun? Personally I'd be shouting it from the rooftops if I was getting a piece of Severus Snape, him with his Order of Merlin and impending riches and all, but this is entirely your game, love."

"Do you mean that? Because this is all so new and I ... I mean we, want to keep it to ourselves, I suppose."

Hermione was not able to keep a look of slight disappointment from creeping across her face.

"Is this _your_ idea to keep everything a secret?" Esther asked, sharply, scanning her colleague's face for clues that she was subtly picking up on.

"Um, not really. I actually said that I would be proud to be seen as his witch, but he says he wants to keep it between ourselves for now."

"Well, that's odd. If I were a forty-year-old wizard that had pulled a girl half my age I think I'd be busting a gut to tell anyone I could. Men are weird."

Hermione shrugged.

"I hope he's not ashamed of me," she admitted.

Esther put her arm around Hermione's shoulders.

"What a stupid thing to say! You are prime beef, love. I should imagine your dark wizard has emotional issues the length of England, that's all."

"Prime beef?" Hermione laughed.

"The very best," Esther chuckled, planting a quick kiss on her cheek. "Now, I have to run. Place to go, wizards to see, that kind of thing. See you tomorrow."

Hermione bid her friend farewell and watched her sashay out of the office with a sway in her hips. She gathered up her own paperwork in her satchel and swung it over her shoulder, exiting the office and heading towards the clanking lift that would take her down to the Atrium.

As she walked past the Fountain of Magical Brethren towards the bank of fireplaces that constituted the commuting Floos, she saw Arthur Weasley walking across towards her, waving with a warm smile upon his face.

"Hermione!"

He gave her a quick hug.

"How was your week off? Did you have a nice holiday with your young man?"

 _Young man_ , she smirked to herself. _If only you knew._

"Yes thank you, it was wonderful. My parents' cottage was such a good place to go for some quiet time together, it actually felt like a real holiday."

"I'm sure it did. Now, did you manage to raise magical wards around the cottage? I'm only concerned for your safety and security."

"Don't worry, that was the first thing I did when I got there, it is all secured."

"Excellent, excellent. And you are staying there another week is that right?"

"Yes. My boyfriend has another week of annual leave so he's staying in the cottage whilst I'm at work, then we can spend evenings together."

"So he has the same annual leave as the Hogwarts Easter holiday then? What a co-incidence."

Hermione could feel herself blushing. _Not again_. Was their relationship about to be discovered twice in one day? _Don't be stupid,_ she told herself. Mr Weasley could have no possible idea about Severus.

"Hermione, I'm teasing you. Do you think Molly and I hadn't figured out you are seeing a boy from Hogwarts? We presumed that you didn't want Ginny to know it was someone in her year and that's why you've been so secretive, and why you can only spend time together at weekends and holidays. No, no, don't worry, we won't breathe a word!"

"But ... Arthur ..."

"You don't need to explain! I told you, Molly and I are not intending to pry into your private life. Although I have to say we were quite impressed that you've been able to sneak into Hogwarts all these weekends, I suppose that close friendship with Professor McGonagall has its perks, eh?"

"No, really ..."

"I must go, there's an empty Floo point. Molly is baking chicken and ham pie for supper today, I must be going, my favourite!"

And with that, he spun away from her and towards a vacant Floo fireplace. Hermione wasn't sure if it was a good thing that the Weasleys had thought up this strange notion, or not. Whilst she was glad they appeared to have no idea about Severus, she wasn't entirely enthused that they believed her to be sneaking into Hogwarts to sleep with an imaginary seventh year boyfriend either. And since both the Weasley parents were about as subtle as hippogriffs, she was sure they would manage to slip the information to Ginny somehow, even by 'mistake'.

She headed towards one of the last Floo points on the corridor, scooping up and throwing her handful of powder, calling _Cliffside Cottage_ as she spun through the Floo connection to the place, and person, she called home.

\- xxx –

Severus was perched on the sofa over the coffee table with an ink, his favourite long raven quill and a pile of patent registration parchments that he was working upon when the Floo began to glow green, announcing Hermione's imminent arrival home. He felt his heart give an uncharacteristic leap of joy, and he stood up and walked over to the hearth, ready to receive her immediately, in a dignified manner, of course.

She tumbled through the connection and stepped over the grate, relieved beyond belief to see her wizard standing within clutching distance, looking delightfully relaxed, barefoot and wearing just his plain black trousers and white shirt, rolled up at the sleeves and with the wide collar open, revealing his scar. He had stopped applying his glamour charm permanently around the cottage.

She dropped her bag carelessly on the rug and flung herself heavily into his waiting arms, slipping her arms around his waist and squeezing him tight, resting her cheek against his chest, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his shirt and something unmistakeably _him_. A heady rush like warm syrup spread through her body as he wrapped his long arms around her in return, seeming to sense that she was in need of his embrace.

As he enveloped her completely, he dropped kisses on the top of her head, firmly marking his territory, reclaiming his witch who had been taken from him all day, revelling in the new and unfamiliar feeling of being able to provide _comfort_. He was without doubt utterly compelled by and possessive of her; and the feeling no longer scared him. Much. He felt her heavy breathing against his chest, and the shudder of her shoulders. Not letting loose his hold in the slightest, he questioned her.

"Is something the matter, Hermione?" he asked, his lips moving against her hair.

He felt a big sigh emanate from her, and she pushed back a little in order to lift her chin and look him in the eyes. She was not crying, but her face looked tired and emotional. He raised his hand and took an errant curl that had fallen over her eyes, tucking it infinitely gently behind her ear.

"Tell me," he continued. "Allow me to assist you, if I can."

She gave him a small smile.

"It's nothing really. I just ... just, really missed you today, Severus. I suppose we have indulged ourselves the last week together."

The left side of his mouth quirked up in a lop-sided smile; and he found pleasure at the unusual sensation of being _missed_ by someone. Holding either side of her face between his hands, he dropped his lips to hers and kissed them, slowly and tenderly, enjoying the exquisite feel of her soft mouth stroking against his own.

"Yessss," she breathed, "yes please. Please kiss me. _I need you_."

She spoke the truth. After her busy first day back at work; including her annoyance with Pridmore for his poor attitude and with Esther for her crowing reaction to her discovery, Mr Weasley's presumptions and the emotional tension of the meeting with the St Mungo's researchers, she needed nothing but the touch of his hands, his lips ... she actually needed him to fill her, to fuck away the day, to reaffirm their physical connection. She wanted him to make love to her, in the full and complete way he always did, and she wanted it _now_.

She began to slide her hands up his back, rubbing his skin hypnotically through the thin cloth of his shirt, enticing him to move closer, kiss deeper. He would not deny her. Extending his fingers from her cheeks to the side of her head, he gently angled her face and requested entry for his tongue, sliding the long muscle into her warm mouth and eliciting a strangled groan of pleasure from her that went straight to his cock, as usual. He never stopped marvelling at the speed in which Hermione could arouse him.

He swept his long, sharp tongue deep into her mouth, tickling all the corners, and tussling with her own in a wet, hot tangle. Her hands were at the top of his trousers, pushing on his lower back to move his hips closer. He let out a groan himself as his clothed erection came in contact with her soft body, and was unable to muster enough control _not_ to grind against her.

"Oh, Severus," she whispered, after a good while of deep, open-mouthed kissing.

She pulled back just enough to break the kiss and for him to enjoy the sight of her swollen, wet lips, for which he was proud of being entirely responsible.

"Severus, you know what you are to me, don't you?"

He looked at her questioningly, although not severely, since his own face was slack with arousal and desire.

"What do you mean, little witch?"

"I mean, you know that I have no ulterior motive to be with you?"

"What an odd thing to say, Hermione. Has something happened today that you wish to discuss with me?"

"Actually, there is, yes. But not now."

She snaked her arms around his neck and pulled his head down, tracing her lips across his mouth, like a forest faerie stroking a gossamer thread across the aroused ruby-red surface in a divine tease. He felt the tingle from his scalp to his toes.

"Not now," she repeated, whispering against his lips. "Right now I need nothing but you to hold me, kiss me, make love to me."

He tangled his hands in her hair, feeling them beginning to shake with the desire he felt for her, for the desire she felt for him.

"My faerie, I would not ever deny you something you need that it is in my power to provide."

He moved his arms around her waist and lifted her off her feet, swiftly pulling them into an apparition that took her breath away. They landed in the middle of the bed upstairs, lying together with his arms still wrapped firmly around her.

"We couldn't have walked up the stairs?"

"I had no wish to tarry another second before tasting every inch of you, as requested."

That said; he wasted no time casting his _Divesto_ to strip them both naked, followed by his crafty little charm that pulled the quilt out from under them, and enveloped them both underneath its plush warm. He ran his large hands over her body, enjoying the feel of her smooth skin under his fingers, from the softness of her belly to the goosebumps he elicited on her arms.

Pulling her against him, and wrapping each one of his long, muscled limbs around his prize like a coiling snake, he once again gathered her mouth with his own, pushing her lips apart and thrusting his tongue in a rolling motion that drew gasps of increasing passion from her.

Hermione felt entirely consumed by his arms and legs around her, and his mouth ravaging hers. She felt her stomach contract and moisture begin to collect between her legs, becoming excited by his touch, his kiss, his intensity. She was hit by the realisation that this was what it felt like to be wholly desired by Severus Snape, and that thought was as arousing as his touch or his kisses.

She rocked her hips against him, nudging his erection with the curve of her thigh.

" _I need you_ ," she hissed in his ear.

"I consider your need for me to be the greatest achievement of my life, thus far," he replied, loosening his hold and pulling her leg across his and around his back, so that he could slip his hands between her legs as he fixed his eyes upon hers, burning volcanic black with arousal.

He stroked a single long finger against her folds, finding them already damp to the touch. He smirked and lifted his own thigh to spread her open further, his finger seeking the source of the moisture and sinking deep inside, adding a second finger on the second thrust. She keened around his curling fingers, the tips searching for and finding the spongy ball of nerves deep inside her.

He leaned in to kiss her – wet, messy kisses that were lapped up by them both.

"I feel your need, little faerie," he rumbled, agitating her deepest point and using his thumb to seek and circle her clitoris.

"I feel your need running all over my hand. I am going to lick it clean once we are done. I will want plenty, so feel free to drown me in as much of your juice as you can."

Hermione let out a long groan; his words were almost as arousing as his fingers moving steadily faster and harder inside her. It felt like he had hold of her from front to back, with his thumb masturbating her clit and his fingers poking at her g-spot.

"Come, Hermione. Come in my hand. The second I tip you over, I am going to thrust my cock inside you where we lay, and I am going to fuck you until you come again, clenching your tight cunt around my prick."

He continued to thumb her clit, drawing his thumb over it, allowing it to flick back before beginning again a split second later. She began to pant, chasing her orgasm, her stomach rippling with the effort. She clung onto his arms and bit gently on his shoulder, holding on with her teeth and breathing hard.

"Fuck! Severus! You are killing me!"

"Not quite yet, I hope," he smirked, increasing the friction upon her clit so that she was hopping around on his hand.

"Oh, oh, oh ..."

"That's it, my little faerie, that's it. Come, come for me ... I want all your faerie juice in my palm."

He pulled out his fingers and concentrated all his efforts on her clitoris, grasping hold of the little bud and twiddling it like a worry bead, whilst lining up his weeping cock with her soaked entrance.

She felt like she was going to wet herself as he twisted her clit faster and faster, until the frantic pace caused her to fall over the edge, her stomach muscles heaving and pushing out her orgasm through her pulsing vagina. As he had promised, he did not waste a second, and thrust into her at the exact second she started to come, her swollen labia squeezing him tightly.

She was panting and writhing as he pushed forward, toppling her over onto her back, putting his hands flat on the mattress either side of her head and began thrusting inside her like the Hogwarts Express at speed.

"Fucking hell!" he shouted, as he pistoned into her.

She spread her legs wide on the bed, flopping them open in her post-orgasm haze, but she was being driven without mercy towards a second, and not solely from his large, pounding cock, but also from the visual he made, striving above her with the look of man driven wild on his face.

His hair swung low and free, the long black strands framing his face and thrashing on his shoulders with his rapid movements. His eyes remained open and searching, drinking in the sight of Hermione, flushed and panting, beneath him. Every muscle and sinew in his arms rippled with the effort of the fucking he was giving her, his hips dipped and rolled as he changed his angle, trying to hit her every wall. His hard balls slapped against her arse as he laboured, adding to her complete sensory bliss.

He drove them both skilfully towards orgasm, pushing her to her second climax and claiming his own with a holler of release that shook the cottage to its foundations. He remained inside her, enjoying the aftershocks of her sheath tightening around him, drinking in every contour of her face as it looked right at that moment, having been fucked to the limit by his very own cock.

\- xxx –

It was a memory that he returned to often the following week, once he had returned for the start of the summer term at Hogwarts.

That evening, after their lovemaking, they had remained in the small bedroom at the top of the cottage, naked in the large bed, talking about the results of their endeavours that day.

Severus had filled Hermione in on everything that had occurred during his meeting with Draco, including both the Malfoys' current state of mental health, Draco's reaction to his offer of an apprenticeship that would culminate in a Potions Mastery, and an amusing tale about a fat, white, bedraggled peacock that made her snort.

Hermione had spent much longer telling Severus about her meeting with Caspar and David Bergin, not leaving out Pridmore's petty comments, her slight uncomfortable feeling about David, and confided in him the news that two of the St Mungo's research team were in fact werewolves. He was delighted that David and Orion had managed to hoodwink the Ministry restrictions all these years, although less pleased to hear that the younger Bergin had kept his eyes on Hermione for a second longer than necessary.

She had become quite upset when she had been recounting the tale of how her colleague Esther (now _that_ witch sounded like the worst kind of uncouth nightmare) had discovered their relationship, and her resulting commentary. He could not recall an Esther Miller at school, although there was no doubt he had taught her. Most of the students remained generic and faceless to him, unless they were in Slytherin, where his role as Head of House dictated that he pay slightly more attention to the children in green and grey.

He had attempted not to snort with mirth when Hermione had seemed quite put out that students twelve years out of Hogwarts might have, at one point in the past, have had crushes on him. He found her ill-disguised jealousy rather charming and mostly hilarious. This had not ended well; in fact, he had found himself side-swiped with a large pillow around the head, which had led to him pinning her down in punishment before seeking a second round of sex that she only too willingly complied to.

Once they had satisfied themselves sexually, they had descended the spiral staircase to forage in the small kitchenette in search of a more nourishing form of sustenance. Padding through the sitting room with plates of cheese and biscuits and glasses of red wine they had continued their discussion, Hermione quite indignant that Esther had suggested that people would understand why she was with the old greasy potions master once he had become stinking rich from the Advanced Wolfsbane.

"Do not be offended on my behalf, Hermione," he had told her. "All my life I have evoked this kind of reaction in people. My only concern is what _you_ think of me. I care little for the good opinion of anyone else. Is this why you asked me earlier if I knew what you thought of me?"

She had nodded, shuffling nearer to him on the sofa and insinuating herself under his arm, looking up at his austere face with worry in her brown eyes.

"You know, don't you? I don't need to explain it?"

"I do not understand your fascination with me, but I do indeed _know_ it. You have no need to worry that I believe you to be after my Galleons."

She had breathed a sigh of relief, before giving him a sharp poke in the ribs.

"Hey, it is a bit more than a _fascination_ that I feel for you."

"How interesting," he drawled, raising his eyebrow, "I don't suppose you wish to share exactly what it is that you feel for me? I really am most interested."

His heart had suddenly beat a little faster, realising just what he had asked her.

He had no idea whether she loved him; he only knew that he loved her with all the pieces of his tattered heart and soul. All of a sudden, if she did not feel the same way, he did not want to know. Her eyes had widened and she was swallowing hard, as if try to hide her thoughts away in her throat so they could not escape from her mouth.

"A conversation for another time, perhaps?" he suggested.

He had passed her glass of wine to her from the table, before lifting his own and clinking it with hers and they had both taken a deep sip. Awkward, but the silence had soon lifted and they were laughing about Arthur Weasley's preposterous suggestion that Hermione had taken a boyfriend from the current crop of seventh years and was sneaking into Gryffindor Tower every weekend to be with him. They had amused themselves with various theories as to how she could accomplish this, and passed a very pleasant evening, talking themselves to sleep finally in the small hours of the morning.

On the Sunday evening that had marked the final day of the Easter holidays, shortly after Hermione had flooed to the Burrow and he had made final checks on the cottage security and set protective wards and enchantments, he had flooed directly to his chambers from the cottage, finding them dark, cold and infinitely depressing. Shooting his wand at the fire he summoned Fen, bidding the elf to bring him a pot of tea with sandwiches for his supper.

Before leaving, Fen lit the wall sconces using elf magic, lit the bedroom fire and turned down the bedclothes, before snapping his fingers to send the blankets and cushions he had seen the couple use on previous occasions to the sofa. The Master of Potions was alone and cold and would need comfort and warmth.

The gesture did not go unnoticed, and Severus thanked the elf, wishing heartily that he could sink into the comfortable nest that Fen had arranged, but instead duty bade that he hasten to his desk to ensure that the following day's lessons were adequately prepared and all marking completed.

Having taught here for twenty years he could teach Potions to all year groups in his sleep, but he was nothing if not meticulous. Slashing at some third year essays that he had missed with his wicked red quill, he was assailed by the fact that he now had a viable exit route from here, a place he had effectively imprisoned himself within for too many years now.

He expected that the owl with his approved patent for the Advanced Wolfsbane any day this week, and Caspar Bergin had already been in touch regarding the human testing. He had indicated that St Mungo's would be ordering a huge regular supply of the potion, should the proposed lifting of the restrictions on werewolf employment become law.

Everything, literally everything in his life, lay in the youthful but secure hands of Hermione Granger.

His capacity for potential employment.

His mental health.

 _His heart._


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

Surprisingly, the owl with the confirmation of his patent for Advanced Wolfsbane arrived with the breakfast post on the first teaching day of term, registering the fact that his potion was now held in Ministry Patents Office credited only to him, Professor Severus Tobias Snape. His first step as an official potions researcher had begun, and he could not help but feel a frisson of excitement, for so long an unfamiliar emotion, but becoming more usual since Hermione had entered his life. It had been on his tiny girlfriend's insistence that he had applied to patent the Wolfsbane variant, and he was now inordinately glad that he had paid heed.

At the end of his final class of the day, he stalked through the endless hallways to the head's office, requesting entrance from the gargoyle to see McGonagall, slightly disbelieving that he was actually about to serve notice on the job he had held for twenty-odd years.

She welcomed him into her office, sitting him down with a cup a tea and pushing her tartan tin of Ginger Newts across the desk towards him. He thought of the previous year, and his year of tenure in this very office, Voldemort's puppet in his reign of terror. No, he had no desire to stay at Hogwarts any longer, quite aside from his potential new business; the very walls of this castle were permeated with too many bad memories for him. He would be glad to see the last of it.

Not wishing to waste time on preamble, he pulled out the parchment on which he had tendered his resignation in writing, and passed it wordlessly and without expression to Minerva, who received it with an air of curiosity.

He watched while she read it, taking a perverse kind of pleasure in watching her eyes open wider, and her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline as she read.

When she had reached the bottom of the page, she set the parchment down on the desk between them, and clasped her wrinkled hands on top of it. She looked at him sharply over the frames of her small spectacles.

"I suppose, Severus, that there is no point to me attempting to talk you out of this decision?"

"Thankfully, none whatsoever, Minerva."

"I trust you have alternative plans for future employment?"

"I do. I shall be setting up on my own in the field of potions research, as well as taking a student through an apprenticeship and offering a brewing service for both speciality and basic potions."

He enjoyed the look that spread across her face that could only be described, rather impolitely, as _gobsmacked_ , and seemingly unable to formulate an articulate answer, so he continued.

"I shall, as per my letter, serve a term's notice as required, leaving at the end of the school year in the summer. However I will be leaving the castle at weekends and possibly some evenings when I do not have other duties pertaining to my role as head of house, night patrol or detentions. Be assured I take my responsibilities here extremely seriously."

"I do not doubt for a second your sense of duty, Severus. If anyone can keep a full teaching job on the go whilst setting up a new business it is yourself. I will not insult you by asking if you have given this decision serious thought and consideration. What I _will_ say, however, is that as inconvenient as it is for me to have to now start searching for a new Potions professor, it gladdens my heart to see you embracing life in this manner."

"Thank you, Minerva."

"I also suggest that you visit Poppy in the infirmary regarding the stocking of the school potions. We have been spoilt the last twenty years where you have been brewing the required stock, however Slughorn before you did not do so, and I doubt that a new professor coming in will be able to complete a full teaching schedule as well as brew the infirmary potions, at least not initially."

"Are you offering me the Hogwarts brewing contract?"

"Well of course I am, stupid boy. Who else would I trust to brew such immaculate potions, deliver them on time and who I would like to see regularly for a cup of tea and a biscuit when he personally delivers them?"

She lifted her rose-patterned tea cup delicately to her lips and gave him a smirk of such naughtiness that he could not help but return it.

"My first customer, then."

He lifted his own cup and toasted her slightly with it.

"Hogwarts is loyal to its own, Severus."

"I appreciate your faith in me."

"I have had nothing but faith in you since you stepped into the Great Hall at eleven. You have proved yourself time and time again. Smiles like the one you have on your face right now could be a tad more frequent, but _och_ lad, we can't have everything. I shall speak with Poppy to advise that she continue to order from you in the same way she does now, only this time we'll be receiving an invoice. At least our spending on potions ingredients will go down equivalently now we won't be stocking the infirmary in-house."

Finishing his tea and leaving the office after some small talk, Severus could scarcely believe the positive outcome of his resignation. Minerva had shown faith in him, and pressed the lucrative Hogwarts infirmary contract straight into his hands. Not wanting to waste any time before telling Hermione, he headed straight back to his chambers to send her an owl. He didn't _run_ of course, but it was a fairly close approximation.

\- xxx –

Later than evening he headed up several moving flights of stairs to the infirmary, for once looking forward to seeing the Medi-Witch rather than dreading it, since he was here to discuss his potential business, and not submit to one of Madam Pomfrey's infernal check-up appointments.

As he walked down the corridor that housed the DADA classroom, office and stores, he saw Faith Burbage approaching from the opposite direction, clutching her teaching robes tightly around her as if unwilling to reveal what lay underneath.

"Severus," she smiled as they drew level with each other.

"Professor Burbage."

He inclined his head in a curt nod and did not break his stride down the flagstone floors of the dark corridor. However, before he turned left at the end he could not resist looking back to see what Faith was up to. He saw her enter the DADA classroom without knocking, and heard the door lock heavily behind her.

Avery Goldsmith was obviously her next conquest. He'd be willing to bet she had nothing or very little on under her teaching robes too, the way she was clutching at them.

 _Slut_ , he thought, the new professor was clearly shagging her way around the male teaching staff. She was not half the pleasant, modest witch her sister had been. Not for the first time, he felt a familiar stab of guilt for his treatment of Charity Burbage whilst they had been colleagues, and for the manner of her untimely death of which he was the sole living witness not currently resident in Azkaban.

He entered the doors of the hospital wing in his usual arrogantly loud manner, crashing the heavy doors against the walls behind them and stalking down the central aisle in full billow. There were a few students looking inexorably miserable in the metal-framed infirmary beds who visibly jumped at the sudden noise, and there was a lamp burning brightly in Poppy's office, revealing the medi-witch writing notes at her desk through the large glass windows that looked out over the hospital ward.

To her credit, she had not looked up as he burst through the doors; no doubt she knew who it was. Damn, he was going to have to work harder at being objectionable if she was growing immune to him. He walked towards her office and leaned nonchalantly upon the frame of the wide-open door.

"Severus," she greeted, without looking up, although he could detect a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

"Good evening, Madam," he drawled, not moving from his position and folding his arms.

That made her look up.

"Since when did you address me as _Madam_ , young man?"

"I have a proposal. It seemed correct to observe the correct pleasantries." He waved a long-fingered hand, vaguely.

"A proposal?" She sat back in her chair and removed her small reading spectacles from her nose, placing them on top of the vast, hard-backed ledger that she had been writing in.

"Goodness Severus, I'm not sure my old heart could take being married to you. You would quite wear me out with all your dark brooding looks, sky-high testosterone levels and innate need for drama."

"How dare you," he said softly, his voice oozing silky threat as he stepped uninvited into the office and pulled up a wheeled chair next to the old medi-witch.

She swung around her own wheeled wooden chair to face him.

"You look happy, Severus," she observed, reaching out a hand and touching his cheek in a gesture that made him feel inexplicably pleased.

"And how can you deduce that from the temperature of my face?"

"You are entirely too cheeky, young Master Snape. I can tell a happy face when I see one. I take it the Easter holidays went well with your lady friend?"

"And you are entirely too nosey for your own good. But yes, thank you, it was ... quite pleasant."

"Quite _pleasant_ ," Madam Pomfrey scoffed with a chuckle, not at all fooled by his neutral use of language.

"I am sure that if I cast my diagnostic now, Severus, it would read tip-top hormone levels, and a sperm count rapidly replenishing itself from frequent use!"

He had the decency to blush slightly, and this did not escape the old witch's eagle eye. She nodded and smiled knowingly and indulgently, which he found rather annoying.

"Suffice to say, Poppy; that I find myself more content that I have been in a very long time."

"I am delighted to hear that. I hope that I will one day have the pleasure of meeting this young lady who has had the courage, yes _courage_ , don't look at me like that, to draw you out of yourself. Now, let me rescue you from the awkwardness of having to talk about your feelings; if I assume correctly you are here regarding the infirmary potions order?"

"You are correct, however it is not about the half-termly order that you would normally place with me."

"I am aware of this. Minerva has advised me that you will not be stalking the halls of Hogwarts like a black wraith for much longer."

"I thought that she might."

"I was exceptionally happy to hear the news, and even happier when she advised me that you will still be stocking and brewing the infirmary's potions," Poppy smiled at him as she riffled around in a metal tray for a parchment.

"It means you will still have the pleasure of my company on a regular basis, albeit less frequently than you do now."

"Well, I'm not sure I can bear the imposition really, Severus," she teased, her eyes glinting with mischief, enjoying the slightly offended look that touched his face.

"Be away with you!" she continued, handing him the parchment, "I'm nothing but delighted. I suggest that we use the same ordering system as we do currently, using his form here, only now I will owl it to you rather than pass it to you over breakfast at the top table."

He took the parchment, folded it and put it in his pocket. He had seen many of Poppy's order forms over the years, but this blank one would be good to magically copy and send to future clients who would, hopefully, be placing large orders. He leaned forwards, resting his forearms on his knees with his hands clasped together, and fixed his eyes on the old medi-witch who had repaired his shattered body more times than he could bear to count, and always treated him with kindness and respect.

"I am very much in your debt, Poppy."

"Nonsense. I simply do my job."

"Your care of me has for many years been significantly more than just _doing your job_."

She blushed, and looked a little embarrassed.

"Well, maybe. You are a very special and exceptional young man."

"Thank you. For everything."

There was a moment of calm stillness between the two of them, late that night in the dimly-lit infirmary where they had shared so many hideous times, times when Severus had been fighting for his life, and Poppy had been battling to save it.

"You are most welcome, Severus. I am so proud of you."

Her eyes began to fill with tears, tears that she knew he would not allow.

"Now, _tsshhh_ , off with you! Don't be making me emotional now; we still have a full term to work together."

"No doubt you will be inspecting my breakfast each morning to ensure I have been served the amount of eggs and bacon that you deem sufficient for me to consume," he drawled, one side of his mouth curling in a lop-sided smile.

"No doubt," she replied, in a croaky voice, only reaching for her handkerchief to dab at her watery eyes once the dark, surly wizard had left her office and was stalking silently down the middle of the infirmary to the door, which he would slam. Of course.

\- xxx –

The first weekend of the new term it was not practical for Severus to leave the castle as he had a detention to supervise on the Saturday morning, night patrol that evening, and needed to be available for his Slytherins as they settled back in and prepared for exams at the end of term, so Hermione floo'ed to his chambers from the Ministry bank of commuting fireplaces on Friday evening.

She had enjoyed a lovely week back at the Weasleys' each night, travelling to and from work with Arthur and being treated to Molly's amazing home cooking. She had arrived back at the Burrow in time to spend an evening with Ginny before she returned to school in the morning, and to her credit, the youngest Weasley did not repeat any of her parents' suspicions, accepting fully that Hermione's boyfriend was a young wizard who worked at the Ministry.

Ron, George and Angelina had also been home that Sunday night, so dinner was a convivial affair with the long wooden table groaning with food and Weasleys. Ron looked pale and tired; he was putting in as many hours as he could with the Cannons, training hard so that he got selected for every match, and working overtime with the teams' manual support crew to earn extra money. Only Hermione knew that most of his earnings were going to support Keava McDonagh, who as a fellow Quidditch player could not fly due to her advancing pregnancy with Ron's child.

She couldn't say she actually felt _sorry_ for him, after all, it was him and his wandering cock that had got him into this situation, but at least it seemed like he was doing his best to deal with the repercussions.

In a whispered conversation he told her that everything was going well, that Keava was healthy and that they'd had a magical diagnostic done on the baby that showed a strong magical signature and good health.

"So she's not a Squib," Ron beamed, as proudly as any expectant father could be.

"She?" Hermione replied.

"Yeah." He muttered, quickly. "It's going to be a little girl, a little witch."

Something in his tone of voice made her suspect that all was not well inside his head.

"Ron? Are you sure you are going to be alright with having her adopted?"

He paused, and looked up at his long-term friend, sadness in his blue eyes.

"Honestly, Hermione? I don't know. But, me and Keava, we can't raise a child. We're not even together, and neither of us want to be. This is definitely the best solution. Yeah, it definitely is."

Hermione thought that he did not sound particularly certain but decided to let the matter drop. It was Ron's decision to make in conjunction with his former one-night-stand. The whole mess was a crying shame, really, it was.

She stepped over the hearth in Severus' dungeon chambers to find them empty, not unexpectedly, however they were unusually warm and well-lit, and as she walked through to the bedroom to put her bag on the bed, she saw that a bath had been drawn and delicious smell was emanating from the full tub.

She smiled as she remembered the first time she had waited for Severus after work on a Friday and their subsequent reunion in the bathroom, and wondered if he was hinting he'd like a repeat performance. Well, she had no objection to _that._

She gladly removed her work clothes, piled her hair on top of her head in a messy bun and slipped into the warm water, the thing that smelled delicious getting to work on her aching muscles straight away.

Not knowing how much time had passed, she opened her eyes from her semi-doze as Severus entered the chambers with a loud bang and a fizz of the security ward being set. He strode straight into the bathroom, clearly knowing exactly where to find his prize. Her face split unbidden into a wide smile as having already dispensed with his outer clothing and footwear, he was unbuttoning his shirt and removing his glamour as he stepped across the small bathroom towards her, leaning over the stone top of the sunken tub and dropping a kiss to her forehead.

"I am glad you are here, my darling girl."

He leaned further forwards and pressed his lips to hers, slipping his tongue between her lips and kissing her deeply and passionately, right there in an upside-down position.

 _My darling._

It was the most loving thing he had ever said to her, and her heart soared.

\- xxx -

The following morning, having sent Severus off to the dungeon classroom to supervise his early detention with the promise of a blow-job when he returned (earning her a pained look as he stalked away from her at the denial of his new favourite pastime, wrapping his robes loosely around himself to conceal his anticipation) she lingered in bed with the Daily Prophet's advertisements section, looking for potential work premises and accommodation for Severus. The apothecary in Hogsmeade was still up for sale, and she circled it with a red muggle pen she had in her bag, it had to be worth a look. She also found a couple of empty shops that included residential accommodation in Diagon Alley, and what appeared to be a vacant hall of some kind with an integral flat above on the South Coast that she also wanted him to view.

Severus sat behind his heavy wooden desk in the potions classroom, seething with unspent arousal that his little tease of a girlfriend had provoked this morning before sending him off to supervision detention with a smile upon her face. He glared out at the two errant Gryffindor boys (of course, they would _have_ to be Gryffindors) who had earned their Saturday morning detention after some particularly colourful language and behaviour during a potions practical making a hair restorative.

 _Little shits_. Hermione was in his bedchamber just mere _feet_ away from where he was currently sitting, the semi-hard erection pressing against his trousers a constant reminder of her proximity. He had set them a task of lines, rather than some hideous task preparing potions ingredients, he wanted no disgusting mess or smells to clear up today. He wanted the miscreants done and gone, so he could return to the infinitely more appealing task of viewing properties with Hermione.

After _thoroughly_ punishing her for her earlier prick-teasing, of course.

A tortuous ninety minutes passed before he dismissed the boys, summoning their parchments to his desk and turning on his heel towards the door to his private chambers before even ensuring they had left the classroom. He had no worries they would linger, what sensible Gryffindor would tarry needlessly in Snake territory?

Sharply opening the chamber door he set a secure ward on it over his shoulder, another upon the Floo to block the connection, and entered the bedchamber, where he found Hermione in the centre of the large four-poster in her little pyjamas, pages of the Daily Prophet spread around her.

She looked up to see an unsmiling Severus Snape in full teaching mode looming above her, a fire in his black eyes, and a jolt of arousal shot through her. He really was so _fucking sexy_.

"Thank you," he replied, hearing her thoughts. "But I have come to collect on your promise."

He waved his wand sharply over the bed in one severe flicking motion, gathering together all the pages of the newspaper and laying it folded on the bedside table. His eyes not leaving hers for a second, he crooked his finger at her, beckoning her towards him as he arched an eyebrow in expectation. She crawled across the bed and perched on the edge where he stood, and slipped her hands between the opening of his teaching robe, undoing the lower buttons of his coat and trailing her fingers over the fastening of his trousers, feeling him hard and ready.

"Well," she replied, looking cheekily up at him, "I suppose I _did_ promise. Poor Severus, have you been thinking about me all through your detention?"

She pressed against his erection with the flat of her hand, causing a moan of pleasure to escape him, and began to release the fastenings. He was clearly at the limit of his endurance and she dared not push him too far. Besides, she wanted _him_ too, and quickly.

"Yes, little witch, you can be satisfied in sending me off to teach with a most inconvenient erection and thoughts only of your mouth around it," he muttered through clenched teeth.

His diatribe was cut off as she deftly scooped his hot prick and balls from his trousers, sliding them together with his shorts down his narrow hips, running her hands over the velvety-soft skin of his cock, pushing it down to expose the bulbous head, throbbing purple with desire and already dripping wet pre-cum from the slit. She licked the salty fluid from the tip, eliciting a further moan from him and gaining his hand on the back of her head, unable to keep from touching her, pressing her gently into him, encouraging her to take him fully into her mouth.

"Suck me, Hermione, my darling. _Fucking Merlin_ , please suck me."

She sank her mouth fully down his shaft and he shouted his approval, placing his other hand on her shoulder, bare apart from the skinny strap of her sleep vest, rocking himself against her. She slipped one hand underneath his cock to cup and heft his hardening sack, and the other behind him to clutch at his bare arse cheek beneath his coat and teaching robes. Not able to resist a look upwards to catch the full visual of giving Professor Snape a blow-job, she found that the sight of his famously expressionless face contorted in ecstasy whilst still physically dressed as her teacher was as arousing to her as if his raven head was between her legs.

"I believe we need to address some of your professor and student fantasies, Miss Granger," he drawled, his voice low and sonorous, thick with arousal. "I would be ... _uhh_... _so good_ ... more than happy to oblige you."

She covered her teeth with her lips and moved her mouth faster up and down the burning hot surface of his cock, relaxing her throat in order to take him as deep as she possibly could without gagging. His hips were now thrusting involuntarily, his smooth buttocks clenching under her hand. As he began to shout and tremble, she moved her hand from his bottom and onto her wand, ready to cast her subtle little spell that evaporated the spunk from her mouth. She had not really developed a taste for that yet, it was a bit too _adult-film_ and demeaning for her nature and liking.

He shot his load into her mouth with a final shout, frantically shaking his hips to eject every last drop, all magicked away by a split-second flick of her wand. He stroked her hair like a cat as he came down from his orgasm, before turning himself around and laying flat on his back atop the bed, breathing heavily.

She curled up next to him, unbuttoning his coat fully to allow him to breathe a little easier, stroking her hand across his shirt-covered chest when she was done, feeling the rise and fall of his lungs.

"Are you ready to go and visit premises?" she asked cheekily.

He opened one eye and glared at her.

"I do believe you are trying to kill me, Granger."

"Relax. I'm joking. I'm going to shower, then we'll go, yes?"

She scuttled off the bed and made for the bathroom, leaving him a heavy-breathing wreck on the bed, his clothing in disarray.

This witch really _would_ be the death of him, he thought with a smile. _But what a way to go._


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

An hour later, after Hermione had showered and Severus had regained the use of his lungs, they floo'ed to the public fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron where they ordered thick sausage sandwiches and large mugs of coffee to set them up for the busy afternoon ahead. Though neither of them mentioned it, both were keenly aware that it was their first time being seen in wizarding public together, even though they were doing nothing more racy than having a quick brunch in the Leaky.

Stepping into the small rear courtyard once they had finished eating, Severus tapped his wand against the bricks in the required formation to gain entry to Diagon Alley. Hermione would never tire of entering the street of shops this way, reminding her of the very first time she had stood in this walled courtyard with her parents to purchase equipment for her first year at Hogwarts. They had been so very supportive of their witch daughter, despite having no understanding of the world she was about to enter, a world which would eventually take her away from them forever.

They walked down the cobbled street for a few shops, before parting ways as Hermione had a book order to collect from Flourish and Blotts, and Severus was headed to Gringotts to withdraw the many Galleons he would need to purchase brewing premises, should he find one today that was satisfactory.

He had flatly refused to visit either of the shops that were for sale in Diagon Alley, insisting that he was not going to be running any kind of establishment when the general public _could come in and gawp_ , and nor did he wish to live above a shop in the busy street. He planned to visit the Hogsmeade apothecary in the week on his own, as he could walk down from Hogwarts by himself to speak to the proprietor and leave the details of his brewing business for the new owner.

So that left only the hall on the south coast with accommodation above. They couldn't really tell what it actually was from the single picture and vague description, but Severus had contacted the wizarding estate agent by Floo and arranged an appointment to view in about an hour from now. They had plenty of time. Severus had been advised of the co-ordinates of a sheltered apparition point close to the property and they were to head there.

After collecting her precious order from Flourish and Blotts, she headed towards Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes where they had arranged to meet, much to Severus' disgust, after he had finished at Gringotts, which was likely to take much longer than Hermione had in the book shop. Spending a little time with her friend George seemed more preferable than window shopping.

Hermione thought about her friendships as she wandered down Diagon Alley, there really were not very many of them. She had not retained the few friends she had made at her muggle primary school, bidding the place a happy farewell when she entered the wizarding world at eleven. At Hogwarts, she had never been the type to make girly friendships, her relationship with dorm-mates Lavender and Pavarti were coolly cordial, at best.

Her closest friendships were of course with Harry and Ron, and spending her school years trying to keep both them and herself alive did not make for a great base from which to form other meaningful connections. She would be happy to see any of the other Gryffindor boys; Neville, Dean, Seamus anytime, but she doubted she would meet up with any of them alone, more as part of a general group.

She supposed that Ginny was her best female friend, from their time in the DA and from her subsequent relationship with Harry, and she intended to nurture that. She loved Luna, but the two of them were just too different to form any kind of close bond

And yet she found herself curiously satisfied. She rarely mused about her limited friendships, and if she did, it was more with detached logic, as she was doing now. She was more similar to Severus than she'd first thought. He too was solitary, enjoyed his own company, and did not suffer fools gladly. She really was very happy with him, as surprising as it had been to find herself in a romantic relationship with her former Professor.

As she entered Wizard Wheezes, the bell above the door clanged loudly to signal her entry, and her eyes were met with a riot of colour and noise. Being term time, the shop was full of young wizards and witches of pre-Hogwarts age, most accompanied by their bemused looking parents. George was standing on the staircase in the middle of the shop, demonstrating fake wands to a small boy and his father, who roared with laughter as the wand he was handed turned into a rubber chicken.

Hermione caught George's eye and he grinned widely in greeting, calling her over with an effusive waving of his arm. As she approached, he all but pulled her up the last two stairs to envelope her in a huge bear hug.

"Hermione! What brings you here? You're never here, unless forced?"

"Hello to you too, George Weasley. I'm just waiting for a friend, he's in the bank at the moment so I thought I'd come and see you."

"Oohhh, a _friend_ , a _he_ , could this be the elusive wizard that my mother has been attempting to identify?"

Hermione blushed scarlet. Damn.

"I'll take that as a yes then. So does this mean you aren't here to shop? How disappointing."

"I think you have more than enough customers in here without me adding to your coffers. You're doing so well!" she exclaimed, in genuine pleasure.

"We are! I mean, _I_ am ..." his voice trailed off.

"Both of you founded this shop. You will always be a _we_."

She watched him visibly gulp and compose himself quickly. Poor George. The loss of Fred was of course more acute for him than anyone else.

"Thanks, Hermione. Lollipop? I promise nothing tricky about them, just sweets."

"I'll give that a miss if you don't mind. I still have nightmares about you allowing Neville to eat that Canary Cream in the common room."

"One of our best sellers!"

"I'm sure it is. No offence, George, but I won't be eating or drinking anything in here."

He had the good grace to look disappointed, before his eyes flicked up to the door as the bell rang again, his eyes widening. She followed his gaze to see Severus entering the garishly coloured shop, a look of such supreme distaste on his face that she felt the urge to laugh out loud.

"Bloody hell. Well, that git is the last wizard I expected to see in here."

He raised a hand in greeting to Severus, who had seen Hermione and was approaching them, careful not to touch anything nor find himself in the path of one of the many young children who were excitedly milling around the stacked shelves in an explosion of sugar-filled excitement.

"I doubt he'd be in here by choice. He's meeting me."

George's face contorted in confusion at her statement just as Severus reached them, before his always congenial manners and politeness took over and he extended his hand in greeting.

"Professor Snape ... Sir. This is a surprise to see you in here."

Severus shook the proffered hand.

"Mr Weasley," he replied, his eyes darting around the shop, as if there were too much for his eyes to take in during just one glance.

"I must confess this would not be my first choice of shopping emporium. However, I congratulate you. You and your brother appear to have created a highly successful business here."

George swallowed hard at the mention of Fred.

"I appreciate you mentioning him, Sir. Too many people are scared to."

"I can promise you he will not be forgotten by me. A boy and his twin that I believe are legendary in the disciplinary records of one Argus Filch."

George grinned proudly. It was clear that _this_ was the way he preferred to remember his brother. For a man who professed to hate people, Severus certainly had a knack for sensitivity and knowing when to say the right thing. It was one of the many things about him that she liked ... _loved?_

"George, could we use your back room to apparate from? We need to side-along, and we'd rather not do that in the middle of Diagon Alley."

"Yes, of course, come on back."

They followed George, twisting and winding his way with practised ease through the throng of pint-sized customers, towards the roped-off area at the back of the shop, where they used to sell security and safety products during the war, but which now held their more expensive and exclusive items, and was roped off and partly curtained so would-be purchasers could only enter accompanied by a shop assistant.

They all entered the room and pulled the curtain across as far as it would go. She wondered if they could get out of the shop before George put two and two together.

"So, hang on here ..." he began, a look of confusion upon his face.

Clearly not.

George was now looking between the two of them, flicking his pointer finger between them like a softly ticking clock.

"So ... are you ... is he ...?"

"For Merlin's sake, Weasley, if you have something to ask, please do spit it out before we all expire from the anticipation." Severus drawled, his face apparently unconcerned.

"Snape. Are you ... have you ...?"

"Oh, _George_!" Hermione snapped. "Please just _ask_ whatever it is you are thinking. You're making me anxious."

A broad smirk spread slowly across George's face, growing in size and reaching his eyes, which lit up with amusement and mischief, and he seemed to grow an inch taller with bravado.

"Well, well, _well_ , Hermione Granger. _He's_ your man, isn't he? Hogwarts visits, away during the school holidays, oh _Merlin_ my parents are so stupid! Of _course_ you wouldn't be seeing a seventh year. How ridiculous would that be? This makes _much_ more sense!"

"It does?" said Hermione and Severus together, in surprise, quite forgetting to be indignant at being discovered.

"Of course it does! Hermione, you were never going to be satisfied by a boy your age, my little brother being a perfect case in point for _that_ theory, and Professor, from what I know of you, Sir, you need a woman to be your intellectual equal, am I right? And who better than our little library-dweller here?"

"Thank you for that assessment, Mr Weasley."

Severus had found his composure first.

"You're welcome, Sir," George replied, giving his trademark wink, clearly enjoying gaining a foothold on the conversation.

"Things have been a bit rough for you, you know, over the years. About time you got to enjoy an O-grade witch." He made a rude clop-clopping, _giddy-up_ noise with his tongue.

"George!" Hermione exclaimed.

Severus placed a gently restraining hand upon her arm; he could see that Weasley had begun to provoke her ire. He leaned his dark head closer to George's bright orange one and spoke in a low, dangerous voice.

"It just so happens that I have _indeed_ awarded Miss Granger an _Outstanding_ grade. _Each_ and _every_ time."

George face was a hilarious combination of shock and nausea as exactly _what_ Severus was referring to sunk in.

"Well, thank you both for _that_ delightful little mental image. I shall have to scour the insides of my brain to avoid thinking about it for too long. I presume I'm to continue to keep this hushed up for the time being?"

"You presume correctly, Mr Weasley."

Hermione leapt into her friend's arms for a hug.

"Thank you, George. I'll see you soon, ok?"

She released him and took Severus' arm, and he spun them away in a side-along apparition, away from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, away from the riot of colour, away from George, away from Diagon Alley and the bustle of London, and they landed in a small wooded copse with bright sunlight poking its way through the canopy of leaves.

\- xxx –

"Can Weasley be trusted to keep his silence?" Severus asked, as soon as they had landed.

"I should have thought so. But even if he doesn't, does it really matter? Everyone will find out about us sooner or later."

He gave her a concerned look.

"Stop hyperventilating, Severus. There is no reason in the world anyone could find to say that we should not be together."

"In a logical sense, I know this. I just the find the whole idea of our private relationship being public knowledge extremely disconcerting."

"I know you do. However many times I tell you that I am proud to be with you."

"I am sorry, Hermione."

"Don't be."

She stepped towards him and slid her hands up his black-coated chest, winding her arms around his neck and pulling his head down so she could press her lips to his. He returned her kiss warmly and eagerly, as he always did, licking along the seam of her lips to part them and push his tongue into his mouth, seeking hers. He snaked his arms round her waist, pulling slightly upwards on the small of her back to stand her on her tip-toes, compensating for the height difference as he furled his tongue around her mouth.

 _Well, look at you, Severus Snape, snogging in the bushes in broad daylight,_ she thought with amusement.

"I heard that," he muttered, pulling back far enough from the kiss to be able to speak.

"You were supposed to," she replied. "And come here, I hadn't finished."

He thoroughly enjoyed kissing her deeply, snogging open-mouthed as she ran her hands through his long hair at the nape of his neck, making his skin goose-pimple in delight under her touch.

"Hermione," he said at length, "as pleasant as this is, we have a meeting to attend."

She laughed, and wiped her mouth with her fingers, before lifting her other hand to his mouth to wipe away any damp smears she had left behind. They held hands and walked out of the wooded copse, and through a few trees to reach an empty road which they could see led down to a small village in the distance.

"The estate agent said do not head right towards the village, but instead turn left and continue walking until we reach the barn," he told her, steering them both to the left.

"Oh, it's a barn. I couldn't tell from the picture. I thought it looked like a village hall of some kind."

They walked down the country road for a few hundred yards, only one muggle car passing them in that time. Then came a low stone wall, behind which was the looming exterior of the advertised barn, set apart from other buildings and appearing to back onto extensive crop fields.

Severus unlatched the wooden gate in the wall and they approached the door, which was opened for them before they reached it. The estate agent greeted them hurriedly, ushering them inside. He did not appear to recognise either of them, and if he did, he was doing a grand job of hiding it.

He led them directly into a huge, open-plan space, with a high, flat ceiling and no windows, which was curious, since the outside of the barn had huge windows they had seen on the way in. The agent began to explain.

"This is a fully magical building, housed inside a muggle shell. The view from the windows, should anyone look in, will always be the same; however the perimeter of the property is protected by a long-standing muggle-repelling charm; that magically deters anyone who tries to get too near."

Hermione nodded as he talked, before noticing that Severus was distracted, walking around the open space, touching surfaces with his hands, opening up cupboards and peering onto high shelves.

It was the most curious room. It certainly did not look in any way residential. It had a mixture of steel and wooden benches, not dissimilar to those in the potions classroom. There were many sinks around the room, old ones, not modern. There were cabinets and shelves galore, two huge fireplaces, and a staircase leading up to a mezzanine floor, from which she could see a second smaller staircase going further upwards. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, and looked old and uncared for, as if it had stood still and uninhabited for a long time.

"What was this place?" Severus asked, not turning around to face the agent.

"Many years ago this workshop was owned by a Zephaniah Flyte. He and his partner used to produce broomsticks."

"Flyte and Barker," Severus murmured.

"What was that?" she asked him.

"Zephaniah Flyte and Anton Barker; manufacturers of some of the finest racing brooms ever seen. When I was at school, a Flyte and Barker broom was as coveted as Firebolt or a Nimbus is today."

"Ah, I see. That explains all the workbenches."

"Indeed. What happened to all their equipment?"

"Not known, Sir," replied the agent. "We believe that Flyte took everything not nailed down when he fled the country shortly prior to the first wizarding war."

Severus nodded thoughtfully and continued to move about the room, heading towards the stairs and indicating for Hermione to come with him.

"We will just be a short while," he said commandingly to the agent, clearly meaning that they would be going upstairs alone, and who surprisingly did as he was told and stayed put.

They walked together to the split-level mezzanine, which was completely empty and was larger than it had looked from the ground floor.

"This would be an ideal place for book storage," he murmured. "Away from the potions but near enough for reference."

They carried on up the second small flight of stairs into the eaves of the building, where a long room the length of the barn opened up before them. Hermione gasped, it was dusty and uncared for, but beautiful. There was a long window low to the floor across one length of the wall, which could not be seen from the outside, guaranteeing privacy.

A small fitted kitchenette was at one end, and an open-plan bathroom at the other, complete with a free-standing roll-top bath. She thought privately that she would conjure a wall around the toilet before daring to use it. (Some things were just not meant to be shared experiences.) There was a small fireplace with a dark grey surround, where she could visualise the two wingback chairs from his chambers fitting in beautifully.

There was one solitary piece of furniture in the room, clearly too big to have been taken by the previous owner, and it was exquisite. A huge dark-wood framed sleigh bed, the most enormous she had ever seen, dominated the room, old and dusty like everything else, but surely would be stunning once it had been cleaned, and dressed in new, fresh linens.

Her eyes darted around as they ate up the potential in the room. She was already thinking about where a small dining table could go, and a wardrobe, and ...

"I do believe you are mentally moving me in here, Hermione." Severus teased in a whisper, planting a light kiss on her cheek.

"Can you blame me? It is perfect."

"You are of course correct. I do not think I will find any better for my requirements. Large workspace, already partly equipped, living space, the decoration of which I shall leave in your capable hands, and most importantly, privacy and seclusion. Shall we go downstairs so I can complete the deal?"

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. This is wizarding estate agency, Hermione, everything is done on the wave of a wand, including filing title deeds with the Ministry. None of the muggle legalities and extensive paperwork that necessitated me confunding the property developer in Cokeworth."

They re-entered the huge workroom, where the estate agent was waiting with a harassed but expectant look upon his face. Clearly he was in a hurry.

Severus confirmed that he would be taking the property, and the agent immediately conjured a parchment which he began to read, handing over four large bags of Galleons that he had withdrawn from Gringotts earlier. Whilst he was reading, the agent magically counted the coins, before banishing the parchments to the Ministry Housing Office once Severus had added his signature. He handed over a muggle key, did a few cursory wand movements and Hermione felt the wards drop, before shaking both their hands and leaving the barn without another word.

"That was _it_?" Hermione was incredulous.

"It was indeed. I am now the new owner of ..." he looked at the title deed parchment that he had been left, "Lawton Barn, Lawton-atte-Bower."

"Just like _that_?"

"Yes, Hermione, just like that. Now, before I do anything else, I must secure this place."

She moved back and allowed him space to move. He drew his wand from his sleeve and a serious look spread across his face as he began performing some complicated wand movements and incanting in Latin, as she had heard him do just before leaving Spinners End. She presumed he must be setting a Fidelius Charm upon the barn, and indeed she felt a reassuring sense of protection envelope her as his spell took hold.

"Did you feel that?" he asked her. She nodded, and he looked gratified, his spell had worked.

"You are now a joint secret-keeper of Lawton Barn, along with myself," he told her simply, despite the enormity of the trust he had just placed in her.

He continued to cast, and she felt the familiar feeling of his security wards go up around them. He then approached both fireplaces, blocking the Floo connection, before apparating upstairs to block that fire too. He returned via the stairs, as if he was testing them out.

Walking towards the front door, he used large arm movements to conjure what appeared to be an internal door with porch around it, all hidden inside the main front door that led outside.

"Apparition porch," he explained, shooting a spell at it. "And the spell I just cast upon it will allow, at this present time, only you or I to apparate in or out of it. We cannot be apparating to a copse down the road every time we return home ... as fun as it undoubtedly was in there."

He gave her a smirk that turned her tummy over with desire. How did he _do_ that?

She felt a little dreamy and helpless as she watched him, both unfamiliar feelings for her, as she watched him secure his new home and workspace with such insouciant speed and skill. He really was so utterly capable and protective; and she actually found it quite a turn-on.

"We have much to do here, Hermione. I will need to involve Draco from next week onwards."

"That is fine with me, and I am happy to help you too, you know that."

"You have your own work to do, not least of which is getting those reforms to werewolf control legislation pushed through the Wizengamot."

"True enough. I have a document I need to finish this weekend actually. Should I head home, considering you're on night patrol tonight?"

"If I could persuade you to return with me to Hogwarts, I would make the whole of my private desk in the sitting room available for your use to work. The thought of coming back to empty chambers after Saturday night patrol is not a pleasant one."

"Is that your way of saying, _please stay with me tonight, Hermione_?" she teased.

"It is."

"Then shall we test your new apparition porch?"

\- xxx -

Much later, Severus returned from a cold evening patrolling the echoing corridors of Hogwarts, chasing randy little fuckers back to their dormitories, deducting housepoints and issuing an unprecedented number of detentions (all to be served with Filch, he wasn't _stupid_ ) when word _finally_ got around that Professor Snape was on duty, in a foul mood, and was _not_ to be messed with that night.

He finished his patrols, satisfied that all students were at least where they should be, if not all asleep, and returned to his chambers, the thought that Hermione was there waiting for him lifting his tired soul.

He entered the sitting room to see her work papers strewn all over his private desk, which he resolved not to look at, and the fire at a very low burn, just enough to light his way. She had clearly gone to bed. Good. He was knackered, and wanted nothing more than to coil himself around her warm body and sleep.

Walking into the bedroom, the fire was burning low but merrily, sending a warm golden glow across the room. Hermione was asleep in the centre of the bed, with a round naked breast visible above the quilt, curly brown hair splayed across the pillow. He eagerly stripped himself naked too, and prepared to slip into the bed beside her.

He took another look at her before doing so. She looked like an angel, a sprite, a nymph, a sleeping beauty slumbering in his bed. She was beautiful. She was pure.

His heart suddenly began to beat faster, and the familiar feel of panic and anxiety began to spread like liquid nitrogen through his veins.

He had _defiled_ her. He had _polluted her goodness_ with his tainted soul. How _dare_ he?

A vein in his temple began to throb painfully, and Severus began to shake, not realising that his thigh was pressed against the bed, causing a vibration that woke Hermione from her light sleep.

"Severus?"

He could not answer her.

She threw back the covers and stood up, right there in the centre of the mattress, and stepped across towards him, wrapping her arms around his head, her naked breasts level with his face.

"Severus, stop this. I am here. I want to be here. You deserve this."

She repeated the words over and over like a soft mantra to penetrate the wall of terror that currently held him in its icy grip.

When she felt his muscles finally begin to slacken and lose their anxious tension, she guided him into bed, and pulled the covers over them both, wrapping her arms and legs around him as she attempted to warm his chilled body. His breathing returned to normal, and she kissed his face as it began to regain what little colour it possessed.

"Normal, Severus. Just an anxiety attack. It's gone now, it's finished, my darling."

She raked a hand through his hair, gently scraping his scalp which he loved.

"Say that again," he growled.

"My darling. You are my darling. I even think I might love you, Severus."

"I don't think I love you, Hermione."

"You don't?"

"No. I _know_ I do."

"Say that again," she mimicked.

" _I love you_ , my outstanding little witch."

She released her snake grip on him and uncoiled her arms and legs, turning her back to rest against his naked chest as he wrapped his arms around her and pushed his hips in to spoon her bottom, his softened cock pressed against her arse.

She was his, and he was hers.

They slept.


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

He awoke the following morning in the same position, spooned behind the naked body of the only person ever to declare their love for him, his arms wrapped possessively around her. Smoothing her long errant curls out of the way and tucking them under his cheek, he leaned his head forward and began to lightly kiss her ear, not able to stop his hand straying to one of her soft breasts and gently squeezing, circling one pert nipple with his finger.

Not fully awake, he heard her sigh in pleasure and shuffle her bottom against his morning wood, which was poking its head in the delightful cleft of her arse, searching for more. Chancing that he would be welcome, he ran his hand down her body, over her hip and down to her bottom, sliding further so it was between her legs, and lifting her top leg to open her pussy to him.

Keeping her leg bent, he attempted to line up his cock with her entrance; he needed to be inside her _now_. Luckily it appeared she felt the same way, as he felt her small hand reach down and guide him into position. He pushed his hips forward and entered her in one smooth motion, revelling in the feeling of her cunt so tightly around him, embedding his cock as deep inside her as it was possible to be, wanting to possess her entirely.

She reached behind her and slid an arm around his neck, pulling his head down to kiss the side of her mouth, and he fixed her raised leg over his own to rest securely, and thus freed a hand to slip between the front lips of her labia, holding them apart and teasing her clitoris out to play with a searching, pleasuring finger.

He quickly built up a fast, devastating rhythm, driving them both higher in a riot of sensual pleasure. Keeping her held tightly with one hand on her breast and the other on her clit, covering her bared neck in wet, sucking kisses, he pistoned into her hard and deep, grunting in bliss with each thrust.

" _Fuck_ , witch, _I love you_. How could I ever _not_ love you?" he gasped out, increasing the friction on her both her clitoris and her nipple, enticing her over the edge with him.

Hermione could not ignore his hands all over her, his cock pumping her hard internally, and his declarations of love in her ear. _Severusssss ..._

She realised that she had come, screaming and hissing his name.

Hearing his name screamed in ecstasy from the mouth of this sublime witch was all he needed to throw himself off the cliff of his own orgasm. He gave one final thrust, embedding himself deep inside her, and felt his seed spill from the end of his cock in thick, hot bursts, sapping his energy as it left his body.

He collapsed in a boneless heap, completely spent, chest heaving as it tried to redistribute the blood and oxygen evenly around his body. Hermione lay on his arm, breathing just as heavily, and he pulled her in close to him, his softening cock slipping from inside her. She turned around and laid her head on his chest, and her palm over his rapidly beating heart. For a while, they were still, no sound apart from the gradual slowing of their fast breathing.

"Severus?"

"Yes, Hermione?"

"What happened last night?"

He paused to think before answering.

"I do not know. My patrol duty went much as usual, I returned here looking forward to spending the night with you, and as I looked at you, innocent and asleep in my bed, I felt an uncontrollable rush of guilt over what I had done to you."

"What you have _done_ to me?"

"I was thinking awful things. That I had no right to you, no business touching you, loving you. And then I could not control my own mind or body. It was the familiar feeling of guilt that I have, about many things, but more frightening. It was almost debilitating"

"It sounds like a panic attack. They're not uncommon in people suffering from depression or post-traumatic stress."

He scoffed.

"It is not a sign of weakness, Severus. Panic attacks are a sign that you have been strong for _too_ long, tried _too_ hard to deny your own feelings."

"That certainly makes sense. Thank you for your prompt action."

"I did nothing but hold you and reassure you of my presence," she replied, trailing a finger gently around his smattering of chest hair.

"Thank Merlin that you did. Thank Merlin for _you_."

He kissed the top of her head, and she lifted her chin to receive more, and he dropped his mouth to hers.

\- xxx –

A little while later they were kissing goodbye in front of the fireplace, having enjoyed a shower together where Hermione had thoroughly shampooed Severus' hair, something he never tired of, and breakfast supplied by Fen.

Hermione was returning early to the Burrow to prepare for work the next day, despite the mess she had made on his private desk with her papers she had completed very little work. Severus privately suspected that from the books that he could spot had been moved on his bookshelf that she had spent the previous evening reading, but chose not to mention it. This witch could get away with anything, as far as he was concerned. Not that he would tell her that.

Severus had contacted Draco via the Floo network and arranged to meet him at the gates of Hogwarts at eleven o'clock, intending to side-along him to Lawton Barn and start the clean up that was urgently needed before they could even begin to think about ordering equipment and ingredients.

Just before eleven, he shrunk a soft leather briefcase full of cauldron catalogues, order parchments for potion ingredients, details of owl order services and details of suppliers. They had an awful lot to do. Fastening his coat and throwing his travelling cloak over his shoulders, he exited the castle using a side door and headed through the grounds towards the boar-topped gates, extending a less-than-enthusiastic wave in response to Hagrid's cheery one.

He could see the white-blond head of Draco Malfoy before he reached the gates, and was pleased that the boy had shown enough good sense to arrive early. He met Draco's eyes as he walked down the hill, and the former student and professor nodded curtly to one another.

Approaching the gates, he touched his wand to the lock which opened at the recognition of his magical signature, and stepped outside, closing the heavy iron gate behind him.

"Good morning, Draco."

"Good morning, Sir."

"Before we leave, let me be very clear. I am now taking you to the property I have purchased not only to be my workplace, but my home. It has been warded with every possible security protection that was within my capability to perform, by which I mean, extensive. Granting you access to my home means that I will add you to the wards, and thus demonstrate my complete trust in you. I expect you to treat my home and my life with rather more respect that you do your own. Is that understood?"

"It is, Sir. I am ... in your debt for the opportunity you have given me."

"Remember Draco, that I am also in your debt. A life debt, to be specific."

The younger man gave him that arrogant Malfoy smirk that he remembered only too well.

"Well, then let's see if we can help each other then, Professor."

Snape's eyes narrowed, as they so often did in a classroom full of idiots, and he was gratified to see the smirk slip from Malfoy's face ever so slightly. _Not as confident as he appears_ , Severus surmised.

He extended his arm towards his former student.

"Shall we?"

\- xxx –

Nearly three hours later, and the two Slytherins were finally making some progress inside the workroom at Lawton Barn. They were using a mixture of magical and muggle methods, each with varying levels of success. Severus had used his wand to remove decades of filth from the floors, uncovering a wonderful dark-grey flagstone floor, flat and even, ideal for potion brewing. He had duplicated the work benches twice over using a variant of the Geminio curse, meaning that he had two extra work benches, but no danger of either of them being burned if they touched them.

The extra benches had been necessary, as when they had tried to apply a Tergeo charm to clean one, it had simply disintegrated into pieces, either too old or too worn to cope with magical cleaning. The two wizards had shot exasperated looks at one another, before conjuring buckets and sponges which they filled from one of the many sinks around the walls, removing their coats, rolling up their sleeves and getting to work scrubbing the benches the muggle way.

They became so absorbed in their task, the novelty of doing a chore without magic, that once the benches were clean they began moving them into Severus' desired working arrangement by pushing and heaving them between them like two muggle removal men. They had successfully manoeuvred one into position when Draco stood up and leaned against it.

"I've just remembered we are both wizards. Would a simple _Wingardium Leviosa_ not be better here?"

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Well, why don't you try it? By all means, be my guest." He waved a long-fingered hand cursorily over the scrubbed benches.

Draco cast the spell, and the bench they had just spent best part of an hour cleaning disintegrated in pieces, just as its predecessor had. He stared at the pile of wood fragments on the floor, shaking his head in confusion.

"I don't think these benches like magic, Sir."

"You are correct. Let that be your first lesson as my apprentice. Not everything can be improved by magic. There is always scope for simple human skill. Never forget that."

He used Geminio to create another bench, and then pushed his hair back into a plain band that he had unexpectedly found in his trouser pocket, no doubt inadvertently purloined from Hermione. Undoing the top button of his shirt, his scar neatly covered by his glamour, he prepared for another hour of manual labour moving the benches. They had to be in a sensible position in order for them to maximise their brewing potential.

He could see it in his mind's eye; a bench for long-brew and complicated potions, a bench for simple brews, a training bench for Draco, cupboards for cauldron storage, shelves for ingredients ... he was quite excited by the thought, enjoying the feeling of something other than fear coursing through his veins.

He sent Draco down the country road to the village to purchase some lunch from the public house that was sure to be there, and while the boy was gone he took the opportunity to clean the floors of the mezzanine and living quarters in the same way as he had with the workroom. The mezzanine was wooden, the same as the stairs, but the floors in the top were the same flagstone as the workroom. As he heard Draco re-enter the barn, he flicked a cursory spell over the kitchenette, which looked rather grim and dirty, before descending the creaky wooden stairs.

That afternoon found them sitting at one of the newly-cleaned work benches on two high stools that Severus had transfigured from some of the fragments of wood that littered the floor. Draco had also tried, although his efforts looked rather like wobbly coat-stands than stools.

"Not quite so much attention paid in Professor McGonagall's transfiguration class then, Mr Malfoy?"

Draco had the good grace to look sheepish.

"Do not trouble yourself. I have hired you for your skill in Potions, not anything else."

He stared the younger wizard in the eye, unblinking; then flicked his wand at a few more wood fragments, conjuring a few more stools out of them that Draco quickly placed around the room at various benches. If Severus was being honest with himself, he had only carried on transfiguring to show off, and to annoy Draco. He really must remember that he was above such pettiness now, it was most unbecoming.

Using what little funds he calculated he had left in his vault at Gringotts, Severus and Draco ordered a selection of cauldrons, stirring rods, burners and other basic equipment they would need. Sadly, all of Severus' potions equipment belonged to Hogwarts, there would be nothing he could bring with him, including all his years of painstakingly collected ingredients, which was hurting him the most. Ah well, he would have to begin again, he thought, reaching for the ingredients catalogue and preparing to complete a large order form.

"How are you going to send the order forms?" Draco asked him, as they debated over dried or pickled newt intestines.

"I shall take them back with me, and then use a school owl to deliver them."

"And what about when we're here permanently?"

"Admittedly, I have not given that particular issue too much thought."

"I've had an idea."

"I am all ears."

"You are deep in the country here. Why not set up a small owlery of your own? It wouldn't be obtrusive outside, when I walked down to the village earlier I saw your nearest neighbour has a pigeon coop. You're going to be sending and receiving an awful lot of post, I think you're going to need at least four post owls, if not half a dozen."

Severus mulled this idea. There was a possibility that Draco could be right, and the idea was appealing. How else would he receive owl orders, send invoices and confirmations and the suchlike? He stood up and raised his ebony wand at the back wall, which was windowless and plain stone. At his cast, a door-shaped hole was cut in the bricks, which pushed out into the grassed area at the rear of the barn. A few more complicated wand movements, and the alcove he had created was now kitted out in an exact replica of the owlery at Hogwarts, only for half a dozen owls, rather than hundreds.

Draco walked over to look, showing his approval with a low whistle.

"Impressive," he conceded. "Very impressive."

"You will be in charge of purchasing the owls. Can I rely on you to go to Eeylop's this week and select an appropriate number, along with food and other owl-related miscellany?"

He reached into his trouser pocket for his pouch of coins, Draco put out his hand to stop him.

"Please. Let me pay for them. You have so much to buy to set this business up. I'd like to, I really would."

"Thank you, Draco. That is a kind offer, but I really ..."

" _Let me_ ," he insisted. "I want to be a part of this business. This is _my_ chance at a new life as much as it is yours. Let me buy us some fucking owls, for Merlin's sake."

Severus regarding the young wizard whose soul he had personally sacrificed so much to save. The same wizard who had endangered his own freedom to insist that he and his parents return to the Shrieking Shack after the final battle, when Death Eaters were being rounded up and imprisoned, in order to retrieve what he believed to be the dead body of his professor. Such a show of respect, for no reward.

"I would be very happy for you to choose and purchase the owls, Draco."

"Brilliant," grinned Draco, relieved that Severus had not hexed his balls off for swearing at him. "I'll make sure I get a big, arrogant bastard one with a nasty pecking habit to take the unpaid invoice reminders to our worst customers."

Severus could not help but roll his eyes at the stupid boy's youthful idiocy.

\- xxx –

Over the following weeks, which slowly turned into a month, and then two, Severus and Hermione's lives were a whirl of frantic activity. Hermione was deep into her werewolf reform work with Esther, and the two were in the final stages of taking the proposals before the Wizengamot. They were just waiting for the results of the third month of Advanced Wolfsbane trials from St Mungo's via Caspar Bergin, and if these proved as satisfactory as the research so far, everything pointed to the potion being a complete success, and able to be used as part of their case to lobby for legislation reform. Despite their case being logical, fair and legally solid, neither witch wanted to appear before the Wizengamot without the results of the Wolfsbane trials. Both felt it was an essential part of their proposals for reform.

Severus spent as much time as he could at Lawton Barn, when he wasn't teaching, on night, homework or Hogsmeade duty, marking essays, lesson preparing or otherwise engaged at school. His workroom was pristine, with large heavy-glass jars upon the shelves, filled with fresh and sometimes gruesome ingredients that Draco had personally unpacked when the orders arrived and decanted into the jars, grumbling that it was like having detention every day of the week.

He had barked a laugh and asked Draco why he thought so many detentions were served in the potions classroom? Draco had looked at him in realisation and disgust, causing Severus to choke on his own laughter. The boy had a lot to learn about behaving like an arsehole, surprisingly.

So far, young Mr Malfoy had been nothing but exemplary. He was there at the barn every day to receive the stock they had ordered via owl post and floo delivery, and ensured that it was all accounted for and the invoices filed. He had chosen a sensible selection of owls, with the exception of the inevitable miserable bastard one that Severus suspected Draco had chosen because it reminded the boy of _him_. It was jet black, enormous, and had a serious attitude problem. Severus hated it on sight, and decided him and that bird, who Draco had named _Hannibal_ , would come to blows before too long.

The downside of all this industry, was that Severus and Hermione did not have too much free time to spend together, since both of them were often working weekends, although they had spent one very pleasant long weekend decorating and kitting out the residential space in the eaves of the barn with the furniture and linens that Hermione had purchased one afternoon in Diagon Alley after work, and had arranged to be sent directly to Lawton. It had amused them both to think of Draco unpacking Hermione's floral cushions and a pile of soft white bath towels. At least they were better than flobberworms that needed gutting.

Unfortunately they hadn't stayed overnight there as yet, as Severus had to return for a staff breakfast the following morning, but the small flat was ready to go, including, Hermione had been relieved to see, a sturdy wall around the toilet and sink area. They had left the gorgeous roll-top, claw-footed bath and the shower open-plan to the room as it had been, both of them thinking the same, that it would be quite pleasant to ogle the other in the tub or shower from the comfort of the enormous sleigh bed, which once cleaned and dressed, did indeed look amazing.

Half-term had again been busy, but they had managed to snatch three days holiday at the beach staying in Cliffside Cottage, where they blocked off the Floo and reacquainted themselves with each other, in every sense of the word. They had talked until the small hours every night, spent the days on the beach in the warm weather – Severus had something approximating a light burn across his pale nose and cheeks – and squeezed in as much sexual contact as they possibly could. Both returned to their respective employment happy and relaxed, if not particularly well-rested.

Severus felt his heart lurch with joy as he returned to Hogwarts for the second half of the summer term, knowing that this would be the last time he returned as a professor. Poppy Pomfrey had given him her half-termly order on the last day before the week's holiday started, and he had spent the days he hadn't been at Cliffside Cottage at the barn with Draco, brewing the potions to fulfil the order.

Their first order! He tutored Draco to the best of his ability, impressing on his young apprentice the importance that every single potion they dispatched was of the highest quality, neatly bottled, sealed and labelled with their own distinctive labels that Draco had designed, under the simple name of _STS Potions_.

He watched like a hawk as Draco brewed the most simple of remedies that the infirmary required, stating that if he could not get them right there was no point in moving on to more complicated brews. Severus was determined that anything with his name on would be perfect; his reputation _had_ to be for his excellence.

\- xxx –

A week before the end of the school term, on an ordinary Wednesday after work, Hermione was sitting at the long kitchen table in the Burrow with Arthur and Molly, having finished an excellent dinner of chicken stew and dumplings, even though the weather was warm and summery, Mrs Weasley always insisted on feeding everyone _properly_. The evening was just drawing in, it was not yet dark, and the kitchen door was propped open, looking out on to the garden where the chickens were running around trying to chase the last beams of the days sunlight.

All three of them looked up as a clumsy crack of apparition sounded outside the gate.

A red-headed man landed heavily, knocking against the gate, his arms full of goodness knows what, it looked like a pile of laundry, and several bags were hanging from his arms.

"Which one is that, Molly?" Arthur asked brightly, spying the red hair over the top of the luggage, now walking up the garden towards the door.

"It's Ron!" she exclaimed, delightedly. "Ron Weasley! What are you doing home? And you've brought me a pile of laundry, I see. Come on, pass it here ..."

Her voice faltered as Ron dropped the bags on the floor and lowered the pile of laundry in his arms. His face was deathly white, with a hint of a nauseous green, and livid purple-grey streaks under his eyes indicating he had mostly likely not slept in a few days. The whites of his eyes were red and bloodshot, as if he had been crying non-stop. His mother and father stared at him.

"Ron ... what is happening? What is the matter?"

Molly approached her son, just as the bundle he was holding began to move. She squawked in shock.

"I'm so sorry, Mum, Dad. I'm so sorry."

Ron lost what little composure he had been holding on to, and began to cry, heavily and noisily, shaking with fear as if he was freezing cold.

Molly pulled back some of the blanket, revealing a tiny wriggling hand, and the head of a baby, crowned with a fluff of unmistakeably Weasley red hair. She gasped audibly in shock. Ron looked up at Hermione, sitting opposite the family on the other side of the table, her tea cup frozen halfway to her mouth.

"Hermione," he begged. "Hermione, please help me. It's Keava. She's dead ... car accident with her parents, they're muggles, they were killed too. Muggle hospital ... saved the baby. She's early but healthy. Been there three days. Doctors said I could bring her home now."

She leapt from her seat and around to Ron, who looked firmly rooted to the spot. Helping Molly into a chair, and noting that Arthur was sitting with a flabbergasted expression on his face, she clutched a tight hold of Ron's arm in support, careful not to dislodge the small baby that he held cradled awkwardly but securely in his arms.

"Ron," she began, gently. "Hadn't you and Keava made plans for her, to go somewhere?"

Ron turned his head towards her, his eyes full of anger, sadness and fear all at the same time.

"My daughter is going _nowhere_."


	39. Chapter 39

**This one is dedicated to** _ **Jess6800**_ **and** _ **viola1701e**_ **, just for being generally awesome with their support along this journey we are walking together. Thank you to everyone who is reading and enjoying.**

 **Chapter 39**

"Ron?"

Hermione looked up. Molly was sitting in her usual place at the long wooden table, her face ashen with shock, a shaking arm resting upon the surface next to her abandoned dinner plate, and her eyes brimming with hot, angry tears.

"Hermione, you tell them. I don't think I can," he pleaded.

"No, Ronald. I told you how I felt about this a long time ago. I'm sorry for what has happened, this must be devastating for you, but if you have _any_ chance of making this right you need to be honest with your parents."

He nodded, slowly, and she pulled out a chair for him in between Arthur and Molly. She proffered her arms to take the baby from him, but he shook his head.

"I'll hold on to her for now, but thanks."

She made to leave the family to their privacy but he called her back, asking her to please stay. He took a deep breath and began his story, looking from his mother to his father as he spoke.

He told his shocked parents that Keava McDonagh had become pregnant after they'd had a short fling whilst playing for the same Quidditch team, explaining that it was a meaningless couple of nights, not even a relationship. Molly visibly winced at this. He acknowledged that he'd been a fool not to ensure that a proper contraceptive was being used. He explained that he had been offered the Keeper position with the Chudley Cannons shortly before finding out that Keava was expecting his child.

Nicely incriminating Hermione, he told how he had discussed the pregnancy with his friend, and how she had quite rightly put him in his place, stressing that the baby was his responsibility too, he could not expect Keava to deal with the outcome of their joint mistake all by herself. Molly and Arthur both shot Hermione a hurt look, as if to say, _you've lived with us all these months and not said a word_?

Ron revealed the true extent of the hours he had been putting in at the Cannons, playing every match and taking extra shifts doing pitch and equipment maintenance to boost his income so that he was able to financially support Keava during her pregnancy when she was unable to fly. Molly, despite her upset, could not help reaching over and placing a motherly hand upon her youngest son's freckled white cheek, stroking it gently with her thumb and looking sadly at the grey smudges of exhaustion beneath his eyes.

He finally moved on to the part of the tale where he revealed that he and Keava had arranged to have the baby adopted by a magical family, since they did not wish to have a relationship together, and neither felt they were ready to raise a child. Molly's hand flew to her mouth in shock, and more tears spilled unbidden from her already swollen eyes.

Arthur slammed his fist down on the table, causing the crockery to shake, and the three people sitting around him to turn around to stare at the normally mild-mannered man in surprise.

"As you know, Ronald," he stated, quietly and evenly, "Your mother and I were nineteen when Bill was born. The exact same age as you are now."

And without another word, Arthur rose from the table, pushing away his chair and heading towards the door that led out of the Burrow, slamming it hard behind him.

Everyone winced at the sound, and the baby flinched inside the bundle of blankets. Ron rocked her gently, murmuring gentle _shhhh-ing_ sounds and leaning to plant the lightest of kisses on her forehead. Hermione and Molly looked on in amazement at this show of fatherly care and concern.

"How could you, Ron?" Molly said, at length, clearly more devastated than angry.

"I don't know, Mum. I was so scared, and felt like a lot of the decisions were out of my hands. I wanted to support Keava, but I couldn't make myself love her. She didn't love me either, before you ask."

He looked down at the downy ginger head poking out of the blanket.

"I will spend the rest of my life making it up to her. I promise you that."

"Has her birth been registered?" Molly asked, practical as ever.

"It has. Both muggle and magical."

Molly gave a small smile and was about to ask another question, when the door swung open with a bang and Arthur returned, his arms full of a large wooden rocking cradle, which he placed in the middle of the kitchen floor without looking at anyone. He seized a cloth from the sink, dampened and soaped it, and fell to his knees and began to scrub vigorously at the cradle, which had obviously been stored in the shed outside.

"The last little witch who slept in here was Ginny," he said in a strangely hoarse voice, not looking up from his task, although they could see his face was flushed and red.

Hermione felt a lump rise in her throat as Mr Weasley expressed his thoughts without words. He would prepare the family cradle ready for his first granddaughter. He would accept her.

Molly walked over to her husband and rested her hands upon his labouring shoulders, squeezing gently, with an affection borne from years of togetherness.

"Does this little lady have a name, Ronald?" She looked up to her son, still holding tightly to the baby he'd never thought he wanted.

"I've been calling her Keah. I wanted to honour her mother, but didn't fancy her having the exact same name. Her middle name is Molly, for you."

Molly's face reddened and beamed.

"Keah Molly Weasley," Arthur murmured, sitting back on his heels. "Named for her mother and grandmother, one from each side of her family. That will do fine, Ron. Now tell me something. Will Molly and I be raising this child, with help from you, or will _you_ be raising her, with help from _us_?"

"A little bit of both, at least to start off with, if that's ok?"

Keah decided to make her presence felt at that point and began to stir and fret.

"She's hungry," Ron said, simply. "I have a box of little bottles of formula milk that the hospital gave me in one of these bags because ... you know ... her mother can't feed her."

"Oh Ron," Molly said to her son with sympathy croaking in her voice. "There is a magical formula feed available for babies whose mothers cannot feed them, I will go to Diagon Alley tomorrow and buy us a good supply. Until then, let's see this muggle formula you have."

Ron reached down and hefted one of the bags that he had been hanging from his arms onto the table with one hand. His mother was looking at the baby with a hungry gleam in her eye, as if she was about to burst, and he didn't miss it.

"Mum, would you like to feed her?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she sobbed, holding out her arms for a first hold of the granddaughter she hadn't known she possessed.

Ron stood up and removed the outer blankets that had been wrapped around the baby, passing her to Molly who took her with practised and expert hands, and cradled her close, instinctively beginning to stroke the child's soft cheek with her fingertips, as if trying to learn all the contours of this tiny face that was the newest member of her family.

Ron unzipped the holdall bag and drew out a cardboard box of small bottles, all clinking together as he set the box on the table. He drew one out, gave it a quick shake with a flick of his wrist, and then with practised ease unscrewed the top, up-ended it to reveal a plastic teat, and screwed it back on to the top of the bottle. He passed it to his mother, who looked utterly amazed at his competency.

"Do we not heat it?"

"No, the muggle nurses told me it was a long-life product that doesn't need warming, you just pop the lid and feed."

Hermione thought she saw a disapproving look cross Molly's face as she mentioned again that she would go out _first thing_ in the morning to purchase magical baby formula. Nonetheless she held the tiny bottle to the lips of the equally tiny baby, and looked enthralled as the child rooted for the teat and began to suckle eagerly.

"She's a good feeder, Ron!"

He smiled proudly, as if he had accomplished the feat all by himself.

"She is. Takes after her dad, I reckon. Likes her grub."

Molly smiled indulgently.

"I'm sure she does. I'll look forward to hearing all about her mother, Ronald, but another time, you look exhausted, son. Have you slept at all since the accident?"

"Not much," Ron admitted, "I've been mostly sitting upright in a chair at the hospital, they have a special ward for small or early or sick babies, and they keep them in these strange glass pods, with alarms going off and all sorts."

Arthur pricked up his ears; interested as he was in all things muggle, and began to ask Ron a number of questions about how the baby support pods worked, but Molly shushed him back to his work with the cradle, which he was now buffing with a soft cloth, working a shine into the old wood. It really was a beautiful piece, now it was clean she could see it was an ornate carved pinewood, and Hermione had no doubt that more than one generation of Weasleys had been rocked to sleep in it.

Molly cooed delightedly at Keah, who had fallen asleep on her bottle, and was laying slack in her arms, milk-drunk, with a dribble of formula running from the corner of her mouth and down her chin. Ron immediately fetched a muslin cloth from the bag and dabbed it away.

"Important to keep her mouth and chin dry, so she doesn't get rashes," he told them proudly.

The look Molly's face suggested that she of course already knew that, but allowed her son to demonstrate to her what he knew. Hermione privately wondered how long a peaceful existence could be assured for, with the formidable Weasley matriarch at the helm, but for now she was just relieved that Keah was safe after such a traumatic start to her life, and assured of growing up within a family where her biggest problem would be everyone battling to love her the most. Not a bad problem to have.

The cradle was finished and Arthur stood up to admire his handiwork, beckoning Ron over to look.

"I'm sure you don't remember Ginny sleeping in here, you were only a toddler yourself, of course, when she arrived. Now, where am I putting this? In our room or in yours?"

"In mine," Ron replied, firmly.

"Are you sure?" Molly asked.

"You don't have to take on everything at once, let me help you. You look exhausted and look like you need a good night's sleep, Ron. Let me take her, even if just for tonight. You and I are both here caring for her and there's no reason for either one of us to exhaust ourselves."

Ron looked as if he was wrestling with the very tempting idea of a full night's sleep in his own bed, or the desire to prove himself a good-enough father. Hermione decided to help out, and walked over to him, resting her hand on his arm.

"There's no shame in needing or asking for help, Ronald. You won't be able to care for Keah properly if you are thoroughly run-down yourself. Sleep. Your mother is the most capable parent I think either of us could imagine."

She imagined that the flattery would go some way to scoring her some points with Molly that she had no doubt lost by not telling her of the pregnancy in the first place. Ron reached up and squeezed her hand in appreciation, before nodding.

"Thank you, Mum. That would be bloody brilliant. Won't she wake Dad up though; he's got work in the morning?"

Arthur gave him a withering look.

"You don't raise seven children without knowing a few tricks, Ron. Silencing charms around my own head, for one."

He winked, and everyone smiled at him. Keah chose that moment to let rip with a loud burp, apparently in agreement, and a tension-relieving rumble of laughter echoed around the kitchen.

"Arthur, come and meet your granddaughter. I will go and get the cradle sorted, along with the bottles and nappies I'll need for the night."

Ron gave her a grateful look and lifted two of the bags, following his mother as she removed her wand from her apron pocket and cast it at the cradle, levitating the heavy wood into the air and guiding it up the ramshackle staircase.

Arthur cradled the small baby girl in his arms with the relaxed ease of an experienced father. He rocked her gently, keeping up a slight bobbing movement as he walked her into the living room, playing with her tiny fingers.

"Now, the new Miss Weasley. I shall be wanting to get to know you very well indeed, young lady. Your Grandma and your Dadda will obviously be at odds in a few days over who loves you the most, so let me tell you this. If it all gets too much, you come and find Grandpa. I'll be out the in the shed, the secret one, behind the chicken coop. There are wonderful things in there, Keah. Plugs, and batt-rees and fellytones. You and me, we are going to find out all about electrickery. Who is Grandpa's special girl? Yes, it's you, it's you ..."

He spoke so tenderly and so softly that Hermione felt she was intruding on a very private moment. Arthur barely noticed her as she whispered her goodnight and tiptoed up the stairs to her own room, hearing Molly and Ron setting out the baby stuff as she passed the master bedroom.

Since it was still early, she spent time writing a letter to Severus, telling him everything that had happened, leaving out no detail. She grabbed Pigwidgeon as the silly little owl fluttered noisily past her bedroom door, and sent him to Hogwarts with the rolled-up parchment attached to his leg.

As she settled down to sleep, she heard muffled sobs coming from Ron's room directly above her, which soon gave way to heavy snores as the sleep he was so desperately craving overtook him. In the distance she heard a light cry as the baby began to fret, silenced just moments later by the surprisingly gentle tones of Molly who was either changing her nappy or feeding her again, lulling the child back to sleep.

She snuggled further into her bed and looked out of the small window at the bright summer moon, unable to stop a smile creeping to her face. It seemed there was every chance that Keah Weasley would end up being the most loved and indulged child there ever was.

\- xxx -

"Ouch!"

Hermione landed rather awkwardly in the apparition porch of Lawton Barn two nights later, Severus had a rare weekend with absolutely no duties apart from his usual marking, so she had volunteered to teach him her speed-marking spell and the two of them were spending their first nights in his new home above his business premises.

The inner door to the porch swung open, pulled from the inside by Severus, looking relaxed in his shirtsleeves, usual black trousers and scar unglamoured.

"You are not a terribly good shot, are you Granger?" he teased, steadying her with a rather ungentlemanly tug of her elbow.

"It's not my fault," she retorted, lifting her chin indignantly. "You've made that apparition porch so tiny, that only the most minutely accurate of apparitions could land you there without banging into one of the walls."

"And therein lies my reasoning. I only accept visitors who can apparate _accurately_."

"Well, I obviously can't," she grumbled, rubbing her elbow, "Should I leave now?"

"Now, let us not be too hasty," he purred, slinking behind her and lifting her hair to plant light kisses down the sensitive cord of her neck, making her close her eyes in pleasure and forget her snit instantly.

"I do believe I can smell food in that bag of yours, and it would be shame to leave without tasting it ..."

"You are one cheeky git. And your nose is like a bloodhound."

"Something this size needs to be good for something," he replied, with muttered self-deprecation.

"So what have you brought me? Please tell me you did not just apparate with a whole bagful of Chinese takeaway?"

"I did indeed," she grinned, brandishing the plain white muggle carrier bag. "I'm not shrinking food, especially not sweet-and-sour prawns, who knows what might happen?"

He cast a cleansing spell over the nearest bench, summoned two plates, two glasses, a bottle of wine and some cutlery from his kitchenette upstairs, and they set out their takeway feast right there on a workbench, pulling up two stools to sit opposite each other.

"Be careful on yours, Draco transfigured _that_ one."

"You are most unchivalrous tonight, Severus," she chided, only half-teasing.

"I am merely in good humour, Hermione. I apologise."

"Don't apologise. It is good to see you so happy; I just wish I wasn't the butt of your jokes."

"Tormenting people is a hard habit to break after annoying Draco all week. He really is most amusing to work with, even at long distance."

"I bet. I wonder how long before he hexes you?"

"At this rate, I estimate that I have about another month after I am here full-time before he snaps."

"You are incorrigible."

"Why, thank you."

"I love you, Severus, I love this new enthusiasm for life that you have, whilst still retaining your very particular brand of caustic and evil humour," she grinned, spearing one of his favourite chilli-beef sizzlers and holding it out for him to eat.

"I love you more than chilli-beef sizzlers, Hermione."

\- xxx –

Later on, once they had finished their meal and Severus had given Hermione a full tour of everything that had happened in the workplace laboratory since her last visit, they opted to go upstairs to change, read and relax.

Before they headed for the stairs, Severus blocked the Floo connection in both the downstairs fireplaces, and checked the owlery for any post. There was one fat scroll in the incoming basket, where the owls deposited their replies that they brought back from any letters that Severus or Draco dispatched with them.

The scroll looked very large and heavy, had the St Mungo's seal on it, and was currently sporting a rather large splat of owl shit. Looking for the bastard owl who had clearly done it deliberately with an aim that fine, he noted that Hannibal would not meet his eye, resolutely looking out of one of the owlery exit holes, as if daring Severus to accuse him.

"You are a filthy, squalid, cretinous arsehole, Hannibal," Severus admonished, shooting a Tergeo at the scroll so he could pick it up without soiling his fingers.

The enormous black owl ruffled its feathers and hooted indignantly, as Severus slammed the owlery door, leaving Hannibal to his rage.

He broke the seal of the scroll and spread out the numerous parchments contained within on top of the bench they had just been eating on, indicating to Hermione that she could read what she wished, there were no secrets between them.

The air between them became palpable with excitement as they realised what they were reading. There was a letter from the St Mungo's Potions Control & Distribution explaining that Caspar Bergin in Potions Research had requested a large quantity of Advanced Wolfsbane which they were hereby ordering, and had also given them the details of STS Potions, recommending him as a potential new supplier for many of their remedies, treatments, tinctures and ointments that they kept in the hospital, due to the excellent service Severus had provided to the Potions Research department.

They had enclosed an extensive list of everything they currently kept the hospital supplied with, and invited him to submit a quotation of his charges, production schedules and delivery times.

"I think our quiet day tomorrow just went out of the window." Hermione surmised.

"I agree. I shall be glad to call on your Arithmancy skills, if you wouldn't mind?"

"Well, I don't know, Severus. I am _very_ expensive."

He narrowed his eyes and focused his full attention on her, breathing heavily through his nose.

"Name your price, witch," he drawled, dangerously.

She fixed her unblinking gaze upon his black eyes, already beginning to glitter with desire.

"You," she stated, simply but firmly.

He used his wand to sharply flick all the St Mungo's parchments into order and arrange themselves in a tidy pile on the desk at the far end of the lab. He then held out his hand to her.

"May I escort you upstairs? You will find me entirely at your disposal."

She grinned, and took his offered hand.

\- xxx -

The couple were naked in the middle of the huge sleigh bed, Severus on top of Hermione with his strong arms under her back and his large hands hooked over her shoulders, driving himself into her as if he was trying to fuck her right into the mattress. He withdrew his engorged cock right to the tip, before cramming the pulsing rod back in to the hilt, eliciting increasing moans of pleasure from her.

He angled his hips, rolling and rotating to hit her every spot, pressing his pelvis against her mound to grind against her clit with each thrust. He was driving her hard, determined to wring every ounce of pleasure from her body that he could manage. He fucking _loved_ this witch, loved everything about her, but very little topped the ecstasy he was in as he drove his rock-hard penis into her tight warmth again and again.

He had led her upstairs earlier, stripping her of her clothing piece by piece, before laying her down gently on the bed for the first time, caressing and massaging every inch of her, starting with her back and working his way around, relaxing her muscles and soothing her aches before he started to arouse her in earnest. By the time his head was between her legs, opening her dripping wet folds with his rapier tongue, she was halfway over the edge already due to his patient and tender preparation of her body as a dish to be devoured.

He had licked her to a screaming orgasm, before divesting himself of his remaining clothes and beginning to give her the fucking she had been begging for since his tongue first flicked the hot bud of her clitoris.

Like a wizard possessed, he sped up his hips so that they were almost blurred as he pounded into her, the cry of her second orgasm tipping him into releasing his load, which he continued to thrust hard through, wanting to spend every drop of his hot creamy liquid deep inside his lover, his confidante, his saviour, his _friend_.

\- xxx –

Severus scowled as Hermione descended the stairs the following morning, plaiting her hair down one shoulder, the curly mess still slightly damp from their joint shower; and wearing that bloody Gryffindor Quidditch Team tshirt that annoyed him so much. It pissed him off even more, if that was possible, since he found out it used to actually _belong_ to Harry Potter. The tight jeans somewhat made up for it though, he had to admit. They made him want to take a bite out of her succulent peach of an arse.

"Tell me," he asked her, as she sauntered over to the bench he was sitting at, the St Mungo's parchments strewn in front of him, insinuating herself between his legs as he perched on the stool, "Do you wear that tshirt just to irritate me?"

"No, I wear it because I like it; _in spite_ of the fact that it irritates you. _That_ is just a bonus," she winked, curling a hand around the back of his neck and grasping a fistful of wet, black hair, causing him to lean down and kiss her, which rapidly became a deep snogging session like a couple of horny fifth-years hiding in a classroom.

"You are incorrigible, Hermione. You are entirely too sexy for me to bear. Please spare me, and shoot your drying spell at my hair?"

He reluctantly extricated himself for her embrace, smiling hopefully, lifting her hands to his long hair, hanging damp and limp. He closed his eyes in pleasure as the pleasant fizz of her subtle magic buzzed over his scalp, arousing all his sensitive nerve endings and leaving his hair in a sleek raven curtain. She kissed his cheek then turned around, still standing between his legs, and began to look over the parchments in front of him. It was clear they had an awful lot of work to do that day.

Severus slipped his hand into the back pocket of her jeans, cupping himself a handful of bum cheek as he joined her in reading.

A crack of apparition, followed by a loud crash, then a volley of swears broke the silence of the workroom. They both looked at each other, eyes widening in shock.

"Did you ask him to come?"

"I did not. But he is coming and going as he pleases at the moment, covering anything and everything whilst I am still living at Hogwarts."

"Ah well," she shrugged. "I suppose he will know about us sooner or later, you already told him you had a girlfriend. Might as well be sooner."

Draco pushed open the inner door, entering the lab, first of all noting that the lights were on which meant Severus was at home.

"Good morning, Sir ..." his voice trailed off.

Literally not a muscle in Draco's face or body moved as he took in the sight before him, of his former professor, ex-Death Eater and current mentor and employer sitting casually on a stool, with his hand in the back pocket of Hermione Granger, Gryffindor Princess and undisputed pain-in-the-arse, the _same age_ as himself, both of them with kiss-swollen lips and barefoot.

"Well, well, well. _Granger_."

He couldn't help but sneer. It was second nature with Gryffindors, and with this bloody Lion in particular. He hadn't forgotten how she had socked him in the face in front of his friends like a muggle brawler during their third year.

"Let me remind you, Draco," Severus drawled lazily, not removing his hand or person from the young witch who had sat in his classroom as his student less than a year ago, "that you made your first and only serious error of judgement pertaining to the subject of my girlfriend. I bid you to think very carefully before the next words come out of your mouth."

"Good morning, Draco," Hermione smiled cheerfully, although Draco thought he could detect a glimmer of apprehension behind her welcome. "Did you sleep well?"

Draco let out a long, exhaled breath, puffing out his cheeks with the effort. He was going to have to choose his next words _excessively_ carefully.


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

"I think I slept better than the two of you," Draco answered her, letting his eyes rove across the slightly dishevelled state of both of them.

"But no doubt your night was less ... _satisfying_ than ours," Severus replied, not missing a beat.

Draco pulled a slightly disgusted face and held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Alright, alright. I shall keep any comments I might have, about _this_ ..." he waved his finger between the two of them, "To myself. However, Sir, you should know that Granger and I are not in any way ... friends."

"I am aware of this," Severus said, coolly, "but _you_ should know, that it was Hermione who suggested taking you on as my apprentice in this venture."

Surprise registered on Draco's face, and he opened his mouth to answer, but was immediately silenced by Severus raising his hand to stall his response.

"I also refer you to the indisputable fact that Hermione, along with Potter and Weasley, chose to delay their own escape from the burning Room of Requirement in order to save your life, and that of Gregory Goyle."

Hermione could not help a slightly smug look crossing her face, which she tried to conceal, but evidently not well enough, and Severus turned to her with both eyebrows raised.

"Hermione, _you_ also should know; that if it were not for Draco returning to the Shrieking Shack after the final battle, I would have died. He alone thought to come and retrieve what he presumed would be my corpse, insisting that his parents accompany him. None of them expected to fine me alive, and after providing immediate magical aid at the scene to save my life, the Malfoys restored me to health at their home, at their own personal expense. I believe that you witnessed first-hand the full extent of the Dark Lord's attack on me?"

Now it was Hermione's turn to blush, having been staring daggers at Draco for the last five minutes.

"Neither of you need make any comment on these facts; and they are indeed _facts,_ that have led us to the situation we now find ourselves in. Now ..." and he paused, creating one of the achingly long silences that both were familiar with from the potions classroom, "... we have much work to do today.

Draco, I will be beginning your first instruction in brewing the Wolfsbane variant that we discussed, as St Mungo's have ordered a large initial supply. Hermione, I realise that you are not my employee, but if you would see fit to assist me to prepare the cost quotation for the hospital inventory, I can assure you I will make it ... worth your while."

His eyes flashed dangerously, setting a pulse twitching between her legs, which, damn him, he never failed to do, sexy bloody wizard he was. She smirked at him in return.

"Can you provide me with the invoices for your ingredient supplies, so I can see the cost of each item, and also for your miscellaneous items such as bottles and labels so that I can include these in my calculations per potion?"

Severus smirked in return. Damn clever little witch. She knew exactly what needed to be done, with no hand-holding needed. She really did have a formidable brain that he found as intensely erotic as her body. He summoned a large, heavy-bound book from his Hogwarts private brewing room which soon came spinning through the Floo at the behest of its owner.

"You will need this, for the full ingredients of any brews that you are unfamiliar with. Given that you were the type of annoying student that could recite most of your textbooks verbatim, I am not expecting there to be many."

He handed her the book, along with the invoices she had requested, a stack of blank parchment, and a quill and ink, before moving close in behind her, pressing his groin into her back and slipping his nose into her hair whilst Draco's back was turned.

"You are an insufferable know-it-all," he hissed, quietly, directly into her ear. "I will have great pleasure in teaching you something you do _not_ know later on. Right here on this desk."

With that promise, he slunk away like a languid panther across the room, where Draco had begun to set our ingredients on the training bench. Hermione felt rather hot between her legs, and twitched a little on the stool, before turning her full attention to the task before her. Merlin, she loved an assignment, and it was imperative she used every bit of her arithmantic ability to ensure her costings were entirely correct. Procuring the St Mungo's contract, alongside the Hogwarts infirmary one that he already held, would set STS Potions up for life.

Severus began to slip into a fluid teaching mode, enjoying the more relaxed style of teaching a capable student one-to-one, rather than lecturing to a classroom full of dunderheads intent on burning down his laboratory. Draco had a natural skill for brewing, and a clear understanding of the uses and methods for many ingredients. The boy had not brewed even basic Wolfsbane before, but had a good theoretical knowledge. Severus explained the downsides of the original brew, and how cost and complication prevented most werewolves from accessing or brewing their own supply. He had no doubt that much of this first order would be used by David Bergin and his associate, Orion.

Draco, for his part, was enjoying Snape's smooth tutelage, given that it was just the two of them they set a cracking pace, beginning the preparations for two large cauldrons, chopping and dicing together, no words or actions wasted, and he was impressed with the advanced variant of wolfsbane that his professor had created.

Snape was clearly an intellectually brilliant man, but he wondered what on earth he could have slipped Granger in order to entice _that_ hot little witch into his bed? I mean, he was certainly not a handsome man. Were they even shagging? He supposed they had to be, given that Granger had clearly stayed the night. He shuddered a little at the thought.

Granger was as annoying as fuck, but there was no doubt she was as hot as hell. If only he could have got there first, if she wanted a piece of dark wizard, he knew he could satisfy her far better than a man old enough to be her father.

"Now _there_ , Mr Malfoy," Severus drawled, not looking up from his preparation of the aconite strands, "is where you are _wrong_. That is, if Miss Parkinson's tales of disappointment in the Slytherin common room are to be believed."

Hermione stifled a snort, taking a covert peek at Severus who was calmly shredding white stalks, his face betraying no hint that he had just cockblocked his apprentice in one smooth sentence. So it wasn't only her thoughts that screamed at him. Interesting. Draco ought to be careful.

\- xxx –

Just before lunch, Hermione was clearing the workbench from her morning's endeavours with the St Mungo's quotation, which had been approved and pronounced as eminently realistic and satisfactory by Severus, and sent off immediately via one of the less homicidal owls from the owlery.

A large silver stag patronus cantered through the wall, stopping in front of her to speak with Harry's breathless voice.

"Hermione! I'm at the Burrow until tomorrow night, I _had_ to see Ron and Keah! Ginny's here too, she's been given an Exeat from school for the weekend due to special circumstances. Please put your wizard down and come over! Or bring him – we don't mind! Just please _do_ come over. Hope to see you soon!"

The stag gave a shake of its antlers and dispersed into a silvery mist. She looked up and saw that the training workbench, as well as the long-term brew workbench behind were full of cauldrons, chopped ingredients, and piles of parchments with Draco's neat note-taking all of them.

"You're going to be quite a while, correct?" she asked Severus.

"Go, Hermione," he answered, not looking up from Draco's cauldron as he counted the number of stirs intently.

"Who's Keah?" Draco asked nosily.

" _Concentrate_ , Draco," Severus growled, " _Count_."

Hermione climbed the stairs to use the toilet, fetch her shoes and a long wraparound cardigan, before returning back to the workroom to whisper _I'll see you later_ in Severus' ear. He didn't answer, so focused was he on the brewing, but as she made to move away he grasped her hand and pulled her in to him, dropping a chaste but solid kiss on her lips before releasing her without a word.

She crossed the room and threw a healthy handful of Floo powder into one of the huge fireplaces, calling out _The Burrow_ as she stepped into the flames that were now glowing green and ready for transportation.

"Do _not_ comment," Severus warned, menacingly.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Sir," Draco replied, turning his head slightly so that his mentor could not see him smirking into his cauldron steam.

\- xxx –

Hermione tumbled through the Floo and stepped out into the warmth of the kitchen in the Burrow. Walking through into the living room she saw Ron, Harry and Ginny sitting on the floor cooing over Keah, whom Ginny was currently cradling in her arms, unable to stop kissing her soft forehead. Ron looked much better; rested, smiling with pride and the livid grey streaks under his eyes had disappeared. Molly and Arthur were sat together on the sofa, snuggled up in a rather cute way and watching their granddaughter be passed around.

"Hermione!" Molly called; the first to notice her. "Come and sit down, love."

Harry leapt to his feet, wrapping Hermione in a tight hug that lifted her feet off the floor, despite her being slightly taller than him.

"I'm so glad you came, Hermione," he said, warmly, pulling her down to sit on the living room carpet with them.

Ginny was obviously besotted with her niece, babbling utter gibberish to the child, stroking and rocking her. Harry sat back down next to his girlfriend as she held the baby, putting his arm around her and pulling her close, and she rested her head on his shoulder. Hermione, out of habit, slouched on the floor, leaning her elbow on Ron's thigh and he rested his arm across her back.

"Ah now look at that," Molly smiled, "all of you together! Now that's been a while, hasn't it?"

Hermione wasn't sure, but she noticed that Molly's eyes lingered on her relaxed position with Ron, and hoped very much that she wasn't harbouring any false hope that they may miraculously fall back in love and raise Keah together. That would all be _far_ too convenient, and she wouldn't put it past Mrs Weasley to come up with such a notion and begin to convince herself it would come true if she wanted it enough.

She loved Ron as fiercely as she loved Harry, they were both her best friends in the world and she would do anything for them, but a romantic relationship was completely out of the question, even before she started seeing Severus. She decided that she was not going to modify her behaviour for anyone, and remained in her comfortable position with Ron's arm around her, and if _some person_ chose to see that as anything more than friendship, well, that was _their_ problem.

They passed a wonderful afternoon together, taking Keah outside for some fresh air in the warm June sunlight, the three Quidditch players having a good-natured race from the top of the hill back into the Burrow garden whilst Hermione held the baby, before Ginny began laughing at her for holding Keah like a ticking bomb that was about to explode.

"Babies and me don't really mix, I'm afraid, Ginny," she answered curtly, passing Keah awkwardly back to her father.

"Oh, I can't wait to have loads!" Ginny's eyes gleamed.

"But first, I want to try my hand at some professional Quidditch once I finish Hogwarts next month. Madam Hooch said I'm definitely good enough, and she's writing to some teams requesting tryouts for me."

They were all quiet for a while, closing their eyes against the bright rays of the sun.

"I suppose we need to talk about Grimmauld Place then," said Harry, quietly breaking the silence, naming the elephant in the room that they were all currently skipping around.

A hush fell over the group, and they moved under the shade of a tree, gratefully seeking shade and sinking on to the large blanket that Ginny conjured as they walked over there. Ron laid Keah down on the tartan material, made plush and soft by the abundant grass underfoot. They sat in silence, enjoying the light breeze that blew through the tree they were sitting under, ruffling their hair. It was one of those perfect weather days. Allowing Keah to hold his finger, keeping contact with his daughter at all times, Ron spoke first.

"I can't now, Harry, mate. You know I can't. How can I deny Keah the chance of growing up here? Fresh air and space ... and Mum caring for her. If I'm going to have any chance of a career, I'm going to need Mum to look after her while I'm at work."

"Are you still planning to start the Auror training scheme in September?" Harry asked.

"I want to. It's too early to have that discussion with Mum and Dad, this is all so new, but I think that's what I'd like. I want Keah to be proud of me. The whole, _My Dad's an Auror_ , you know. That'd be awesome. And yes I know I could bring up Keah at Grimmauld Place, but it doesn't compare to here. No offence, Harry. And mostly, how could I take her away from Mum?"

He looked towards the house, where Molly was bustling around in the kitchen magically heating a bottle of the formula she had bought in Diagon Alley, and would no doubt be shortly coming into the garden to collect Keah for her next feed.

"You can't." Hermione said, simply.

They all murmured their approval, nodding slowly in acceptance that Ron was making the right decision.

"Ginny?" Harry turned to her.

"I'm going to spend a year playing Quidditch, like you two did. Whatever decision you and Hermione make, Harry, you'll need to not rely on me for the next year at least."

Hermione thought that she had made her point far more sharply and with less consideration for Harry's feelings than Ron had done, considering that she was his girlfriend. But then again, she was also Molly Weasley's daughter, blunt and honest were her essential character traits.

"What about you, Hermione?"

Harry's green eyes had turned to his friend, seeking her answer before making his own decision. She knew exactly what he _wasn't_ asking.

 _Are you with me, or are you moving in with your boyfriend_?

She paused before answering. Her best friend in the world deserved nothing but her complete honesty.

"Truthfully, I don't know, Harry. I can't say that I am definitely going to move in with Se ... _with him_ , but I can say that I love him _very_ much and that if he asked me to live together, I probably would say yes. I wouldn't want to move to Grimmauld with you only to let you down months later."

"That settles it then," Harry answered, happily.

They all stared at him, as he seemed to be in quite a chipper mood considering they had all just badly let him down.

"I'm selling Grimmauld Place."

"What?!"

 _That_ had been all of them at once.

"Yes, I've been thinking about it for a while, but I didn't want to let any of you down."

"Let _us_ down? Really?" Ginny asked, shuffling closer to him.

"Absolutely. Grimmauld Place, it's the home of a family of pureblood supremacists that hated people like me, people like all of us, in fact. It's dark, it's oppressive, it reeks of unpleasant history. Most of all, Sirius hated that place."

Hermione reached over for his hand, and squeezed, thumbing his quidditch-calloused skin gently.

"My Godfather is the only member of that family I cared about, the only one that my parents cared about. If he hated that house, I hate it too. I'm selling it."

"Good decision, mate," Ron told him, lifting Keah from the blanket to feed her as he spotted Molly tromping across the lawn with her bottle.

"Oh me, me," Ginny pleaded, holding out her arms for her niece.

Ron gave her a mock roll of his eyes, and handed her over to Ginny, who received the bottle that her mother handed her, and began to feed the hungry baby with surprising skill.

"Mrs Weasley," Harry began. "Would you sit with us? I wanted to ask you something."

"Of course, Harry dear," she answered, wiping her hands on her apron and sitting down heavily next to Ron.

"We've just decided that none of us are going to move into Grimmauld Place."

An expression of sheer joy crossed Molly's face.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Oh! I am so pleased! Not that I don't want you all to spread your wings, of course not, but having the baby here now, I'd hoped ..." she trailed off.

"Keah will be raised here, if that's ok with you," Ron confirmed, and Molly was nodding vigorously before he'd even finished speaking. "From September, I'd really like to start the Auror training programme with Harry, you know, have a career that Keah will be proud of. Can she ...?"

"Yes, Keah can stay here in the daytime with me while you are working, Ron. Your father and I want you to make something of yourself. I just can't tell you how happy I am that this young lady is here."

She looked down at Keah, who was suckling happily at the bottle in Ginny's hand. Ron breathed an audible sigh of relief. She then looked up at Harry, smiling expectantly.

"I'm going to sell Grimmauld Place, Molly. I really hate everything about that house. Ron's staying here, Ginny's going to be away for at least a year with whichever Quidditch team is lucky enough to sign her, and Hermione ... well, let's just say Hermione might have a new home sooner rather than later," he grinned and shot her a wink.

Molly nodded, and beckoned her hand for him to continue.

"So, I have two options. I can buy a new place until Ginny is ready and willing to move in with me, or I could ... you know, if you'd have me ...?"

"You have a choice of bedrooms, Harry dear. I have considered you a son of mine since the boys first brought you home in that flying car."

"I have never felt more at home than I do when I am here," Harry admitted, heaving a sigh of relief.

She reached across and embraced Harry, the boy who had never known a mother's love. It was a touching moment, and Hermione felt a lump scratch at her throat. She wanted nothing more than for her friends to be happy, but at that moment she could not help but think of her own parents, lost to her and living goodness knows where on the other side of the world, not even remembering they'd ever had a daughter.

"What about you, dear?"

Hermione took a few seconds to realise that Molly was talking to her.

"I just don't know at the moment. It's very early days to be thinking about moving in with my boyfriend, but I suppose I have nothing to wait for now, I'd always had it in my mind about Grimmauld Place in September. It's ... maybe something him and I should discuss."

"Hermione, don't rush into anything," Ron warned. "She can stay here as long as she wants, right Mum?"

"Of course!" Molly replied, quickly. "We have more than enough room here to house all of you. Nothing would please me more. Hermione, don't _ever_ feel that you have to leave us."

Hermione saw her eyes flick between herself and Ron again. She _definitely_ wasn't imagining it that time. This was something to keep a careful watch on, she didn't want Molly putting ideas in Ron's head, he was in enough of an emotional mess at the present without complicating things with romantic attachments, either real, or imagined by his mother.

\- xxx –

Just as it began to get dark, Hermione bid her friends goodbye and headed for the kitchen fireplace to use the Floo to return to Severus. She had no issue with any of the Weasleys or Harry hearing her call out _Lawton Barn_ , since they would have no idea where that was or who lived there. Nor would they be able to find out, since the address was under a Fidelius Charm, and only she, Severus and Draco were Secret-Keepers.

As she stepped out from the green flames of the large fireplace in the workroom, she immediately saw that Draco was absent, and that the benches were clear of detritus, except for two cauldrons on the long-brew bench, both simmering over low flames. In fact, the whole room was immaculate. Severus was cleaning the other benches by hand, with a plain muslin cloth. He looked up when she entered, and his trademark lop-sided half-smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.

"Has Draco gone?"

"He has indeed. Only about twenty minutes ago though. You have an impeccable sense of timing."

"Well, I do try," she grinned, holding out a parcel of dinner leftovers that Molly had sent her home with.

"You do all my calculations; leave me in quiet to work and then return home with food. Truly, Hermione, was there ever a more perfect witch than yourself?"

She eyed him suspiciously, unsure whether he was being serious or teasing. He threw the cloth across the room where it fell neatly in the sink, and strode over to her, taking the bag of food and banishing it upstairs to the kitchenette, before pushing her cardigan off her shoulders, revealing the hated Gryffindor tshirt.

Snaking his arms around her slim waist and pulling her up to him, he crashed his mouth to hers and proceeded to show her _exactly_ how pleased he was that she was back. He wasted no time in forcing his tongue between her willing lips, pushing the rolling muscle in to her mouth with assured dominance and lapping it all around her own – she couldn't deny that she loved it when he let himself go like this.

He moved his hands up from her waist to cup her face securely between his hands, angling her head so that he could further plunder her mouth, kissing her so heavily that they were soon forced to part in order to both draw breath.

He rested his forehead against hers as they panted, his long, hooked nose touching hers, his hands stroking her bare upper arms.

"Do you remember what I called you this morning?"

"You reiterated your view that I am in fact an insufferable know-it-all."

"Oh, that you are, make no mistake," he teased, picking her up in one smooth movement, carrying her across the laboratory as if she weighed nothing at all, and depositing her gently on the end of one of the workbenches.

"You are most _definitely_ a know-it-all, Hermione Granger. And I for one; find your wildly attentive brain extremely erotic."

He reached down and removed her shoes, kissing the bridge of each one before leaving her feet bare and dangling from the bench, then moving closer and pushing her legs apart, standing in between her thighs and beginning to unfasten the tight jeans he loved so much. As his fingers worked, he looked her in the eyes, a lock of lank black hair falling on to his face.

"Do you remember also, what I promised you this morning?"

"You promised to teach me something new, Sir."

"Sir?" his eyebrow shot up into his hairline. "Well, _that_ is curiously arousing."

He finished his task at her waistband as she grinned at him, naughtily.

"Lie back."

She complied, lying along the full length of the workbench, looking upwards, and watched him dim the wall sconces to a soft glow. He pulled at the top of her jeans, tugging them down along with her knickers, and she lifted her bottom to help him. He took his time pulling them slowly down her lower legs, until he had her completely bared from the waist down.

He cast a Cushioning Charm under her, and she instantly felt more comfortable, from her head to her hips. He began to stroke the across her naked hips and pubic mound with slow, tickling fingers.

"I did indeed, Hermione, promise to teach you something new." He leaned forward and placed a wet kiss on her stomach.

"What I intend to teach you tonight, right now, is the art of a multiple orgasm. I have no doubt that you are capable of it, and I am filled with delightful anticipation at the thought of instructing you."

Hermione's body visibly shuddered at his words. She felt the touch of a light warming spell fill the air, and heard the scrape of wood upon stone as he pulled up a stool to sit at the end of the bench between her legs.

 _Oh, he meant business._

He pushed her thighs apart, which were trembling slightly with excitement, and pulled her down so that her pussy sat right at the end of the bench, at a perfect level for his head. Running his fingertips up her thighs he began to stroke her folds, first opening her vagina slightly, at which she felt a large drop of wet arousal slide out and down into the crease of her arse.

His finger caught the drop and he drew it to his mouth, sucking everything off. _So keen_.

"I cannot get enough of your taste, witch. Do you have more you can make for me?"

Her only response was a muttered, _fuck, yes_ , and he grinned to himself. He really was the most worthless but luckiest bastard in the entire wizarding and muggle world alike.

He returned his hands to her quivering cunt and began in earnest. He slid his thumbs between her outer labia and began to massage, gradually spreading the lips open to the sides before taking hold of one in each hand and pulling them apart, making sure he opened them wide enough to fully expose her hard little clit at the top of her rosy cleft. Holding everything open to the view of his searching eyes, he bowed his head almost reverently, lowering his mouth to her and began to lick.

At the first touch of his tongue to her inner folds she gasped and bucked her hips, so he quickly lifted his elbows and placed them perpendicular across her thighs, securing her to the table. If she wriggled too much he would have to use a sticking charm, which he couldn't deny appealed to the more base desires of his twisted heart.

He licked her up and down, from burrowing under her hood to flickering around the rim of her arse, enjoying hearing her breathing increase. Moving upwards, he concentrated his attentions on her clitoris, circling it with broad sweeps of the flat of his tongue, lapping at her as if she was the sweetest nectar.

 _Oh ... oh, Severus, oh ..._ was all he heard from above. If only she knew that just her shouting his given name in the throes of ecstasy was enough to have him shooting his load right there in his trousers. He used just the end of his sharp and deadly weapon to lightly tongue her clit; poking and circling it, driving her nearer to what he planned would be first of several orgasms in quick succession.

She began to hop around on the bench, so, not missing a stroke of his tongue, he sent a wandless, non-verbal sticking charm to magically glue her hips to the workbench. He heard her cry of shock, followed by a squeal of bliss as he sucked her clit repeatedly into his mouth, her stomach heaving with the movement her immobilised hips would no longer allow.

He kept her clit sucked into his mouth, and began to flick the end of his tongue over the pulsing bud. She began to pant, clutching the sides of the bench as she could hold on no longer, and her juices shot out of her vagina as she came, hard and long, as he sucked her.

Letting go of her clit but keeping her pussy spread wide open, he stood up, kicking the stool away, the juice of her orgasm all over his mouth and chin, and he moved one of his fingers to the top of her clitoris and began to agitate the throbbing bud with a continuous rubbing motion. This would be the difficult part.

Her eyes flew open.

"Severus, don't! It's too sensitive ... oh no ..." her voice trailed off and she had clearly just remembered what he had told her he planned to teach that evening.

 _Fuck ... ohhhh fuck ... fucking Merlin ..._

She began to writhe what parts of her body she could still move as he continued to torment her throbbing clit, still pulsing with the aftershocks from her orgasm. She began to bite the fingers of one hand as he thrust two fingers inside her, stirring the wet mess that she was still secreting.

"I can't ..." she panted, screwing up her eyes, "Severus, I can't ..."

"Yes, you can, Hermione. Trust me. You can and you will," he rumbled in a low, deadly and velvety drawl. "Your hard little clit aches for me, you filthy girl. It is throbbing for my touch. I want you to allow yourself to come again, so that I can drive my prick into you and fuck you to a third."

"Severus, please ... I'm ready now ... fuck me now ... please ... I can't ..."

"I will only fuck you once you have achieved a second orgasm, and not before, Hermione," he told her, in a commanding, professorial voice that she knew she'd hear in her most lustful dreams.

He silently vanished the clothing on the lower half of his body, feeling the cool wood of the bench against his painfully hard erection, dripping and ready to thrust into his divine witch.

Continuing to thrust his fingers slowly but deeply inside her, the other hand kept up the relentless agitation of her clitoris. The nub kept trying to flinch away from his wicked fingers as it pulsed with aftershocks, but he chased it everywhere. Finally, he caught it between his thumb and index fingers and began to roll the over-stimulated bundle of nerves hard between them, pulling the bud away from her body as he masturbated her without mercy.

She screamed, long and loud.

"Severus! Stop ... I can't ... I'm going to wet myself ... I can't do this ..." she panted, her stomach contracting hard.

"Then piss yourself, by all means. We are wet enough down here, anyway."

She shrieked with frustration as he increased the friction upon her clitoris even further, as if he were tightly wanking a tiny cock up and down. He kept his fingers thrust in deep, curled at the tip to push at her g-spot, feeling a warm dribble as she did indeed begin to let loose with some urine, which didn't appal him in the slightest, it was only testament to how far gone she was, and at the mercy of his hands. That thought nearly made him shoot his load right there, up the side of the workbench. It was only the desire to be inside her that enabled him to retain his control.

The release of a few drops of piss seemed to loosen her hold elsewhere, and within seconds her cries had turned to those of ecstasy as she finally succumbed to the invasive, constant wiggling, squeezing and stretching of her clit and threw herself over the cliff of her second consecutive orgasm.

 _Bingo_ , thought Severus, keeping up his wicked agitation until she was screaming at him to fuck her, her clit purple with torment and need.

Who would have ever thought that the greasy Severus Snape would have a stunning young witch laid out on a table in front of him, screaming blue murder just for the pleasure of his cock.

Merlin, he loved her more than life itself.

He removed his fingers and thrust his achingly hard cock into the wet, hot mess with delight. Unfortunately, he was so aroused that he was unlikely to take long, but he opted to make the most of the time he had, releasing the sticking charm so she could buck wonderfully against him, his hands and fingers bruising her pale hips as he dragged her up and down his cock.

His orgasm, when it came, coinciding with Hermione's third, was so loud and hard and wall-shattering that it surely must have frightened all the birds in the adjoining owlery.

Except for Hannibal, he thought afterwards. _That_ fucker was probably perched there quite happily, sitting in his own shit, listening to them shag loudly on a workbench. _Bastard._

As he felt his cock pulse with aftershocks, softening but still inside Hermione's warm sheath, he looked down at her gorgeous face, smiling but clearly exhausted.

"Thank you for the lesson, Sir," she grinned, cheekily. "Will you be requiring an essay giving my conclusion?"

He couldn't help but smile broadly at her, most uncharacteristic of him.

"I love you, you cheeky bloody witch."

"I love you too, Professor Snape. I think I probably have for a long while."

They both laughed, and just for that moment, all was well.

\- xxx -

Neither of them had heard one of the smaller post owls return, depositing in the basket a small, tightly-rolled scroll of parchment, sealed in black wax with an unmistakable serpent crest.


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41**

Severus neatly extracted his wand, aiming it above his head with an arrogant flourish and Hermione could hear the bathtub begin to fill upstairs as a cascade of water began to thunder into the large bath.

"As smooth as ever," she acknowledged, before dissolving into laughter as his soft penis slipped out of her with a wet _plop_.

"I am prepared to admit _that_ was not quite as smooth," he replied, with a look of genuine amusement on his face that she loved to see.

He pulled her to a sitting position, and she grimaced at the wet mess she found herself sitting in.

"As you can hear," he told her, indicating the filling bath in the loft area above them, "I have a solution for our messy little problem."

Wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling her legs around his waist, not minding in the slightest the feel of her leaking, saturated pussy held tight against his stomach, he apparated them upstairs; straight into the warm bubbles of the elegant roll-top bath that they had not sampled yet.

Coming up from under the deep water and pushing their soaked hair back, they gasped for breath in surprise, Hermione's red tshirt and Severus' white shirt, the only items of clothing they had both still been wearing, casualties of the surprise apparition.

"Really, Severus?" she chided, mockingly, "We couldn't have apparated directly _next_ to the bath and removed our clothes before going for a swim?"

"I felt that the need to get your sticky little cunt into clean water overrode that of removing the rest of our clothing," he drawled, edging towards her with just his head above water, with a wicked gleam in his eye like a predatory shark.

"I assure you, my shirt will survive the soaking. As for that odious Gryffindor souvenir you insist on wearing, I find myself unconcerned as to its fate."

"Sneaky bastard," she retorted, slapping the water so that he received a face full of bubbles.

"I am, indeed. You finally noticed."

"I always knew. I sat in your classroom for years, didn't I?"

She crossed her legs around his waist and sat on the solid bottom of the bath, between his legs, moving her hands up and sliding them into his hair, even blacker when it was sopping wet, and raked it away from his face, which had contorted into a rather serious expression.

"What's the matter?"

There was quite a long pause as he mulled over his answer.

"Draco. I did not like his reaction today; nor those of his thoughts that I was unfortunate enough to be able to overhear when he inadvertently projected them loud enough."

"Who cares what Draco may or may not think? Our relationship is for _us_ , not for other people."

"It was not so much that I cared, rather than his reaction was an indication of the general opinion we are likely to elicit from the public at large. One of his first thoughts was of me as a Hogwarts professor and you as my student. He found it distasteful. He later expressed thoughts that he, being nearer your age, could satisfy you far better than an old man like myself."

Hermione snorted in derision.

"I don't think _anyone_ could satisfy me like you can. Either intellectually, or ... sexually."

"How would you know?" he snapped, unexpectedly harshly, "I am the only wizard you have ever been sexually intimate with."

"Severus, that is unfair. I know my own mind, and my own body."

"I apologise. You do, indeed. However, I found myself unsettled by his opinions. The fact that they were unvoiced makes little or no difference, he was fixated on the twenty-year age gap between us, and that I was, up until very recently, your professor. I cannot have anyone thinking that I have ever interfered with a student in my care. People think badly enough of me as it is; without adding statutory rape and seduction of minors to my catalogue of horrors."

Hermione shuffled back a little in the warm water so she could see him properly. He looked utterly gorgeous, sitting there with his slicked back hair and soaking wet white shirt, but his face looked lost and helpless, his long pale fingers playing idly with her hands which lay between them.

"Well, I'll tell them then. Tell people that our relationship didn't start until after I left Hogwarts!"

He shook his head, sadly.

"Hermione, don't be an idealist. Who would you tell? And who would listen? The fact is that people will gossip about whatever they wish, regardless of whether the subject matter is true."

"Exactly! So let them gossip? Who the hell cares?"

He gave her a sad smile of resignation, and moved his hand through the water towards her, reaching up to cup her face, rubbing his thumb tenderly on her cheek, trying to calm the ire she felt on his behalf. This girl was a warrior, a champion over injustice, and he loved her so much it was painful.

"There will also be those who will castigate me for being a disgusting old pervert. A lecher. A paedophile. There _is_ a huge age difference between us, my darling girl."

"How could you even count yourself in the same categories as those you have listed? You are not sexually interested in children, or in defiling young girls! I am nineteen years old, soon to be twenty. I am clearly well of age in the wizarding world, and nearly four years past the age of sexual consent under English law. You are only just forty, stop talking as if you are some horrifically old, long-bearded monstrosity. Anyway, twenty years is nothing for witches and wizards! When you are hundred-and-forty, and I am a hundred-and-twenty, no one will pay us one whit of attention. We'll just be two old gits and no one will ever remember that a hundred years ago you used to teach me Potions."

Her unexpected reply brought him up short. Did she even realise what she had just said, what she had just revealed, _what she had just offered_?

"Is that what you see?" his voice was a little husky with emotion.

"What do you mean? Which bit? I just said an awful lot."

"The bit about when we are old."

She tipped her head to the size and looked at him quizzically.

"When we are old ... _together_ ," he clarified.

He noted her facial expression change as the knut dropped as to what he was asking.

"To be totally honest, I haven't thought about the future in any particular detail, beyond the vague plans I had with my friends to move to Grimmauld Place. _But._ I know that I love you. I know that I want to be with you. _All the time_."

He raised a questioning eyebrow, and she gave a little smile and raised her hands in mock surrender.

"Ok, I want to be with you ... _most_ of the time. Every girl needs a little privacy now and then. But what I'm trying to say is, I don't ever think of _not_ being with you, does that make sense? Whatever develops here between us, I want it."

"So, I wasn't just a little project for you, then? One of your missions to help the less fortunate, like freeing the house-elves?"

He could not keep the bite out of his voice, he was terrified by the intimacy of their frank discussion, and that fear was screaming inside him to shut down his walls, keep her out, fence his feelings away from those who could hurt them.

" _What_? That's a terrible thing to say, Severus!"

"I notice you didn't deny it."

"That's because I didn't feel the need to! It is an absurd assumption, and actually quite offensive, considering how far we have come."

She stood up and stepped carefully out of the bath on to the thick bathmat, pulling off her sopping tshirt and bra and dropping them on the floor, before wrapping a large towel around herself, shivering despite the room being quite adequately warm. Severus leaned back against the wall of the tub with his arms along the sides, giving the impression that he was quite relaxed and in control, whereas nothing could have been further from the truth. He wanted to throw himself out of the bath and at her feet, begging her forgiveness for his cruel words, but his mistrustful, self-loathing, self-sabotaging nature would not allow him to.

"How far we have come? And how far do we have to go, Hermione? Does your project have an end-date? Perhaps when I am happily ensconced in my successful business you can consider _Project Snape_ a success and move on to the next."

He locked eyes with her as he sneered the ugly words, sharing what was in fact his greatest fear, that Hermione would leave him once she thought him capable enough of looking after himself, no longer an imminent suicide risk. But even _he_ knew that he had voiced his fears in entirely the wrong way, it had come out as spiteful, accusing, ungrateful, and certainly unloving.

He had provoked her, he knew that. Her chin was raised high and her lips pressed tight together, as if she did not trust herself to respond appropriately. She shot a rough version of her drying spell through her hair and fixed it up in a messy bun before walking over to the bed and grabbing fresh underwear, jeans and another tshirt from her beaded bag.

Any other time he would have been entranced and aroused watching her pull up her simple knickers, pour her luscious breasts into her bra and twist her arms around behind her back to fasten it. She stepped into her jeans and pulled them up with a wiggle of her arse, and finally slipped the plain tshirt over her head, before hanging her little purple bag across her chest and slipping into a pair of soft pumps from the floor. She then turned upon him, sprawling about the bath in a louche manner, with a furious fire blazing in her brown eyes.

"If that is truly how you feel, _Professor_ , that I was only spending time with you because I felt _sorry_ for you, or because I'd somehow taken it upon myself to _cure_ you, I wonder that you found it appropriate to _fuck me_ as many times as you did."

He fixed his eyes upon hers, his onyx eyes strangely blank and expressionless against her burning hazel ones, and signed his own death warrant.

"Well, one has to take what benefits and perks one can, from such an arrangement," he sneered, unkindly.

He did not take his eyes from her as she turned on her heel without another word, headed for the bedroom fireplace, and tossed a handful of Floo powder on to the flames, calling out _The Burrow_ as she stepped over the grate.

There was the familiar green _whoosh_ , and then she was gone.

Nice work, _Snivellous_ , he thought to himself. Excellent job.

\- xxx –

Hermione arrived in the kitchen of the Burrow to find it in darkness, clearly everyone had gone to bed, it _was_ rather late, after all, and she was grateful there would be no one to make tenuous excuses to. She grabbed a glass of water from the sink, and made her way up the haphazard staircases to her room, which she did indeed now think of as _hers_ , and not just Bill's old room.

She pulled off the clothes she had only just put on in Severus' bedroom, throwing them in an uncharacteristically untidy pile on the floor before grabbing a fresh pair of pyjamas from the drawer. Finding herself so emotionally drained she couldn't even be bothered to walk to the bathroom to clean her teeth, she sent a quick dental Tergeo into her mouth to freshen it up, promising an extra-good clean in the morning, and sank into her bed, back in the house she had left only a couple of hours earlier, had an amazing, brain-bending sexual experience, and then returned back to.

What an absolutely horrible evening it had become.

\- xxx –

Severus remained in the bath for quite a while, almost trying to convince himself that if he stayed there, the whole argument would never have happened. He lay back, occasionally putting his entire head under the water to enjoy the steamy heat burning his scalp.

He had been feeling out of sorts all day, not enjoying being party to Draco's thoughts regarding himself and Hermione. It had made him feel perverted, and dirty. Without uttering a word on the subject, Draco had opened a window for Severus to be able to see their relationship from an outsider's point of view, and he did not like it one bit.

More than anything else, he did not wish that kind of scurrilous scrutiny upon Hermione, who was all light and goodness. She did not deserve a foul wizard such as him, with such a past, such a demeanour, such a blackened soul.

But _Merlin_ , he wanted her. He wanted her more than anything he had ever wanted in his life. More than his Hogwarts letter, more than for his father to have died, more than he had _ever_ wanted Lily Evans.

But it was a selfish want. He had meant what he said earlier, about her only having had himself as a sexual partner. Did she not deserve to experiment with a variety of sexual partners, learning her _own_ tastes and preferences, making her _own_ mistakes, instead of tying herself to a miserable, spiteful bastard twenty years older?

He loved Hermione Granger. Deeply, passionately and _desperately_. And loving someone meant you wanted what was best for them, even if that was contrary to your own plans and desires. Should he let her go, free her to experience the youth and life she deserved? From tonight's behaviour, he may have inadvertently already done that already.

He sighed deeply and pushed himself up from the bath, all the relaxing bubbles now dispersed, dried himself quickly and crossly with a muttered spell, and threw on his grey sleeping tshirt and some clean shorts, walking downstairs bare-legged to retrieve his trousers from the laboratory floor.

He could still smell her secretions on the workbench, and had to sorely resist the temptation to bend down and sniff the surface. Instead he commanded himself to _get a grip_ , and sent a stronger cleaning spell around the area where they had ... _copulated_ , and wandered around the lab, needlessly checking that everything was in place. With the exception of the white cloth he had tossed carelessly in one of the sinks earlier, all was as it should be.

He stepped towards the owlery with the intention of checking for any post, which himself and Draco were learning to do regularly, since Hannibal seemed to resent any mail that was not collected promptly, and they had quickly becoming tired of all their parchments smelling of the fetid stench of offended owl crap.

Stopping himself short before he reached the owlery door to pull on his boots, it would certainly not be sensible to walk barefoot into any structure that housed half-a-dozen incontinent birds, he pushed open the door, now clad in suitable footwear, and saw that there was indeed one scroll in the basket, thankfully free thus far of a splat of greyish-white owl shit.

"Losing your touch, old boy," he growled, and he flicked a two-fingered salute in order to mock the revolting giant owl who was currently glaring as if Severus had personally offended him. He certainly _hoped_ so, anyway.

He noted the serpent crest on the seal immediately, wondering why on earth Draco was owling him when he had not long left for home. His aching back not up to sitting on a high stool, after the evening's exertions and subsequent muscle-loosening soak in the bath, he took the scroll upstairs and laid flat on his back on the bed, enjoying its comfort.

He cracked the hardened wax seal between his fingers, and unfurled the parchment, not recognising the looped, feminine handwriting.

 _Dear Severus_

 _Forgive me, we have not personally spoken for many years, but I was reminded of you today in conversation with one Healer Bergin, whom I met whilst at St Mungo's for mandatory health testing on my grandson, Teddy Lupin._

 _You may or may not know that I was granted custody of Teddy after the deaths of my daughter, the auror Nymphadora Tonks, and her husband, Remus. I am required by the Ministry department for the regulation of and control of magical creatures to have Teddy tested for lycanthropy due to his father's status, despite him having shown no sign of it thus far._

 _Healer Bergin approached me confidentially whilst I was waiting, and we had a pleasant conversation of which I won't bore you with now, but suffice to say given Teddy's potential for a lycanthropic status he was excited to talk about the Wolfsbane variant which you have created and I wanted to thank you, thank you so much for taking the time to research something which will make so much difference to these afflicted people. Should Teddy ever show signs of being like his father, your creation will very likely be a miracle cure._

 _Severus, I realise that my sister Bella hurt you very badly when we were all younger. I realise you have suffered greatly at the hands of my family. I would like a chance to make amends. I am currently transitioning my way back into the wizarding world, having spent so long living on the outskirts, due to my marriage to my dear late husband, Ted._

 _I have reverted to the use of my maiden name, rather than using the muggle surname of a man who is sadly no longer with us. It makes everything a little easier. I would very much welcome the opportunity to make your re-acquaintance, now that the war is over and we are all no longer divided on opposing sides._

 _We are single people of a similar age and I believe there is no need for loneliness. My life caring for Teddy can be very solitary._

 _Please do owl me, and let us meet._

 _Andromeda Black._

Severus blinked at the letter, his eyes starting to itch with tiredness. What an unexpected missive to receive. Andromeda had always been the kindest of the three Black sisters, with all the dark, sultry looks of Bellatrix but none of her lust for cruelty, nor any of the vanity and false pride of the youngest, Narcissa.

She had married Ted Tonks ridiculously young, he remembered, she was barely out of Hogwarts when they wed, more than likely already pregnant with Nymphadora. He had not seen her since then. She was not part of the Death Eaters, and he remembered seeing that she had been blasted from the Black family tapestry at Grimmauld Place whilst skulking around during Order meetings.

He was aware that her muggle husband had been killed by Snatchers whilst on the run from Voldemort during his last days of power before the battle of Hogwarts.

He put the letter on his bedside table, satisfied that his post had contained no potions orders or need for alarm, but simply contained an extended hand of friendship. He would respond to Andromeda when he felt in the mood, which certainly wasn't now, his thoughts were only of Hermione, and the lack of her in the bed next to him.

He pulled a pillow over his face and mulled over how his evening had gone so calamitously wrong. They'd had a transcendent sexual experience together across his workbench, and yet he had managed to ruin it – why? He replayed their conversation over in his mind again and again, no need for a pensieve when the clarity of his guilt was so clear.

\- xxx –

Not knowing how long she had been asleep, Hermione awoke in the darkness, throat burning with thirst. Feeling for the glass of water she had brought up, she was annoyed when her hand bumped it and knocked it flying. Damn. She couldn't see where the glass had ended up, and since she couldn't ignore her thirst, she quietly opened her bedroom door and tiptoed down the stairs as quietly as she could to head for the kitchen for another glass.

As she descended, she could see a soft glow in the living room, and there was Ron gently standing in the middle of the room wearing what passed for his pyjamas; a faded Kenmere Kestrels tshirt and baggy trousers, feeding Keah from a tiny bottle.

"Hi," she whispered, not wanting to make a loud noise and disturb the baby.

He looked up and gave her a tired smile.

"Hi. I'm sorry, did Keah wake you up? I thought I'd cast a silencing charm round us as we came downstairs."

"Not at all, don't worry. I woke up thirsty and then knocked my water everywhere. Coming down for more supplies," she smiled.

She headed over to the sink and began to fill herself a glass of water, which she downed eagerly, before filling another to take upstairs with her.

"Tell me to shut up if I'm being nosey, Hermione, but why are you here? Weren't you staying at your boyfriend's tonight?"

She set her glass on the table and walked over to where Ron was shifting his weight from foot to foot as Keah fed.

"We had a difference of opinion. Let's leave it at that."

"But you haven't split up, have you?"

"At this moment I really don't know. I hope not. But some pretty awful things were said tonight."

"Sharing is caring," Ron said, with another weak smile.

"Not now. And you've got enough on your plate without me adding my woes on top. Why don't you sit down and feed the baby? You look half-asleep on your feet."

"That's exactly why. If I sit down I'll get comfortable on the sofa and fall asleep with Keah on the bottle. That can be dangerous. So I stay standing up so I don't zonk out."

Hermione privately thought this sounded like extremely dubious logic, since he looked like he could quite easily pass out where he stood, leaving him liable to crash to the floor whilst holding the child, but opted against arguing with his parenting style. Her friend was doing his best in this unfamiliar situation.

"Want to feed her?"

"Oh, I don't know. I've never fed a baby before."

"It's far easier than Wingardium Levi- _oh-_ sa," he teased, settling Keah into Hermione's arms and handing her the bottle, showing her how to guide it into her little mouth, where she suckled easily.

She smiled warmly at his incorrigible nature.

"Want to sit?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't think so. Apparently standing up is the best way to feed your baby in the middle of the night," she teased back.

He stood behind her and put his arms around both Hermione and Keah, hugging her tightly as she fed his daughter, planting a couple of kisses on the top of her head, moving around to her ear.

As Ron moved slightly to the side of her, she turned her head to look at him, and he tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed her cheek. They both smiled. This friendship had an awful lot of history and they cared deeply for one another.

Ron kissed her cheek a second time, further down, followed by a third that landed right on the corner of her mouth. He used his other hand to gently turn her head the final centimetre needed to plant his lips tentatively on hers, holding them there for a few seconds, not moving.

"Don't."

He pulled away as quickly as he had moved in, touching his lips with his fingertips and looking both guilty and sad.

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

"Don't be sorry, Ron. Just don't confuse loving friendship with something else. Now hug me. You look like you need it."

He encircled them both again; resting his ginger head on the curly brown one of his friend, and looked down in exhausted adoration at the only girl who really mattered in his life right now, his beautiful Keah.

\- xxx –

Severus awoke from a fitful sleep where he had been dreaming he was being smothered, to find that he had dozed off with the pillow still over his face. Wrenching it off and tossing it to the floor, he flapped a hand ineffectively, trying to cool his sweating brow, before remembering he was a wizard and using his wand to cast a blissful cooling charm.

What the bloody hell was he doing?

Why was he lounging in bed here as if he had no worries, when he had just severely pissed off the witch he loved with his own insecurities and spiteful remarks?

The clarity which he had looked for hours earlier was now present, and he could think of nothing but delivering a very late, very much needed but hopefully acceptable apology. He wasn't good at apologising, but he would do whatever it took to ease the sting of the hurtful words he had allowed to spill from his mouth earlier on.

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, realising that he was still wearing his heavy, dragon-hide boots. Ah well, at least that saved the time of putting them on. He summoned his travelling cloak from downstairs, not bothering with his coat since it was still fairly warm, despite being the middle of the night.

Standing in front of the upstairs fireplace that Hermione had departed from hours earlier, he took a handful of Floo powder, and looked in the mirror that hung above the mantelpiece to collect his thoughts. It was probably a good job he did, because he decided that to Floo into Molly and Arthur Weasley's house in the middle of the night when they hadn't seen him for over a year and did not know he was fucking the young girl they felt responsible for, was not the best of plans, all things considered.

He descended the stairs, now transformed into a polished dark cherrywood, and made his way across the flagstones towards the small apparition porch. He would apparate to the gate of the Burrow, the same way he had done all those months ago when they had met and ended up formalising the status of their relationship. He would use the magical equivalent of throwing stones at Hermione's bedroom window to get her to come and talk to him. _He would make this right_.

Turning into his apparition, he landed silently by the gate of the Burrow, noting that all the lights were off apart from a soft glow downstairs, and he headed towards the window, hoping that by some miracle it was Hermione was still awake and reading.

He stayed back a long distance from the house, his black cloak wrapped around his white shirt so that he blended into the darkness. He stood and watched through the window, the touching scene visible even at distance.

Hermione holding the red-headed baby. Weasley embracing them from behind. Their lips meeting.

He closed his eyes so as not to see any more of it, hot-footing it back to the gate and twisting into the quietest apparition he could manage. He overshot the strict boundaries of his self-designed miniature porch and faceplanted the wall, his large nose bearing the brunt of the hard blow and immediately beginning to throb and drip thick, red blood.

Powerless to do anything but sink to his knees, the way he had planned to in front of Hermione, he held his handkerchief to his nose to stem the flow, and closed his eyes, his mind a complete and utter blank.


	42. Chapter 42

**Unprecedented number of pm's and reviews for the last chapter, reading so many different interpretations and opinions has been really interesting, some I hadn't even thought of myself. Long way to go with this story, so please do stay with me for the ride. I love every review and message I receive, and even though this story is fully planned through to the ending, your ideas definitely shape how we'll get there! Pouf x**

 **Chapter 42**

He soon realised that bleeding out from his nose on his own workroom floor was not the way he wanted to depart the earth, so he pulled his wand from his sleeve and sent a healing spell to his hooked beak, before getting to his feet and walking across to his storage cupboard, downing a both blood-replenishing and pain-relieving potion, and taking a third small bottle and slipping it in to his trouser pocket to take upstairs.

He had no idea what the time was, only that it was pitch black outside, so he wearily ascended the stairs and once next to his bed he kicked off his boots, angrily threw off every stitch of his clothing in to a messy heap on the floor. He flipped open the small potion bottle that he had extracted from his pocket before pushing his trousers down, and downed the full contents of the Dreamless Sleep elixir, sinking into the blissfully comfortable mattress, pulling the thick quilt over him before sleep claimed him almost instantly.

\- xxx –

After Keah had finished her bottle, Hermione handed the sleeping bundle with little arms akimbo back to Ron, and they both turned to return upstairs.

"Hermione," he touched her arm, "I really am sorry for kissing you. I didn't even know what I was doing."

"It really is fine. Everyone needs touch and comfort, especially you right now, it must be exhausting looking after a baby, especially with everything that's happened that led to her being here. But let's make sure we keep the touching neutral from now on."

She smiled to show that she was in no way angry with him.

"I love you, Hermione. As a friend, I know, as a friend."

"I love you too as a friend. And we both know that. I'm not going to take one tiny lapse of judgement, when you were on your knees with exhaustion, as a reason to change that."

She popped a soft kiss on Keah's fluffy head, and another on Ron's cheek, before returning to her room, not the least bit perturbed by what had happened, instead thinking only of Severus, and what might have happened to cause him to behave in the way that he had tonight. She was worried about him.

\- xxx –

Severus slept uncharacteristically late the following morning, waking when the midday sun was already streaming through the floor-level windows in his low-beamed loft space. Forcing himself to have a shower, if only so it meant he wouldn't need to have one when he got back to his frigid chambers later, once he was dressed and ready he brunched on the leftovers that Hermione had brought him back from the Weasleys, before heading downstairs to complete the large cauldrons of Advanced Wolfsbane that he and Draco had been brewing.

Both looked perfect, but it would be a long time before he allowed Draco to brew it alone, he had watched him like a hawk every step of the process, not taking his eyes off the boy to ensure beyond any doubt that he was following his every step, even double-counting his stirs. Even the brewers in St Mungo's potion research department had admitted it was a fiendishly complicated recipe.

He decanted the potion evenly into small glass bottles, already neatly labelled by Draco during the week, sealing them with hot wax and packing them into a sectioned crate, ensuring none would break in transit. He fastened the top of the crate, with a note attached that Draco was to deliver these to St Mungo's in the morning along with an invoice, which Severus keenly hoped they would pay sooner rather than later. His Gringotts vault was almost entirely depleted from the costs involved with purchasing Lawton Barn, and setting up STS Potions, even with the funds from the sale of Spinner's End.

Finding himself with nothing else to do, he packed up the small amount of belongings that he had brought with him on Friday, including the piles of essay parchments that he had not got around to marking, and returned to his dungeon chambers at Hogwarts via the Floo.

Even in June, the bottom floor of the castle remained damp and cold, just not quite as paralysingly bracing as during the winter. He decided to mark at his larger desk in the classroom, where students could find him if needed (he hoped they didn't) but he supposed he ought to make himself available if he was in the castle, if only for his Slytherins.

He spread his parchments in piles according to year group, and began slashing at essays with his strict red quill, determined he would not be remiss in any of his duties as a professor here, not even until the last moment he departed the castle at the end of term.

The following morning at breakfast, he was irritated to catch Poppy Pomfrey looking at him with an expression of concern, and exchanging glances with the headmistress. He wanted to tell the pair of them to fuck right off, but since they were both crucial to the initial success of his business, as well as being the only two people within the castle who seemed to give a shit about him, he held his peace, heaping an extra large portion of eggs and sausages upon his place, which he knew he would not eat.

It was halfway through the morning before the inevitable note arrived, brought to him by a trembling Hufflepuff first-year, who looked traumatised at being sent to the dungeon without the necessary evil of a scheduled potions class. She handed the parchment to Severus and was dismissed with a cursory wave of his hand, chivvying the child towards the classroom door.

 _Severus_

 _I find myself concerned about you this morning._

 _Should I be?_

 _Please come to the infirmary if you need me._

 _Or rather I should say, before I summon you anyway._

 _Poppy_

He gave a _tchhh_ of resignation and decided he would go and see her that evening, before he was forced to endure another one of her bloody annoying and intrusive medicals. He was not on patrol that night, and his marking was finally up to date.

Poppy seemed a little surprised that he had capitulated so easily when he arrived in the infirmary shortly after eight o'clock, striding through the empty ward and into her office, where he sat down unasked, rocking the wheeled chair as he sat uncomfortably.

She settled the two students she had on the ward, before entering the office and closing the glass-topped door behind her. She sat down in her own wheeled chair and looked at him expectantly, receiving the same expression from him in return.

"You summoned me?" he demanded, irritably.

"I did not summon you. I said I was here if you wanted to talk," she replied, pleasantly, "I did not expect you so soon."

"You didn't? Madam, you threatened me with medical attention should I not present myself to you."

Poppy attempted and failed an innocent look, before remembering that straight to the point always worked best with this bloody awkward wizard.

"So, what has happened this time, Severus?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

She rolled her eyes and clucked impatiently.

"Well, we could spend time pretending that you don't know what I'm talking about, but to be honest, Severus, I'm an old woman with limited years left in me, and I don't intend to waste them pussyfooting around _you_ , young man. So, out with it. What happened with your young lady that has ruined your appetite and returned that haunted look to your face that I had been so glad to see the back of?"

He sighed deeply, torn between running from the hospital wing shouting _fuck off_ over his shoulder, and breaking down on the old medi-witch's shoulder, telling her everything and begging her to sort everything out for him. Maybe he could aim to land somewhere in the middle in order to retain at least a modicum of dignity.

"I was rude to her."

"Well, I think that was probably a given, anything else?" she smiled, leaning back in her chair, her body language open and welcoming.

"I insinuated that she was only with me out of some misguided intention to _cure_ me."

"Do you think that is true?"

"I do not. At least, I hope not. I am ... not proficient at reading the feelings of others."

"You're telling me, dear," Poppy agreed, "Anything else?"

He flushed in embarrassment, flicking his eyes towards the door, partly to check it was properly closed, and partly so he did not have to make eye-contact with Poppy."

"I might have said that our ... _physical relationship_ ... was purely a perk of the care she was providing."

"Severus Snape!"

Her exclamation forced his eyes back to meet hers.

"That was a dreadful thing to say!"

"Thank you, Madam, I do realise that."

"May I ask why you felt it necessary to say these things, to attack her?"

"I did not attack her."

"This is what you do, Severus. When you are cornered by truths that make you uncomfortable, you lash out with that sharp tongue of yours. So what happened to make you feel this way?"

He scrubbed at his face with his hands, before pinching the bridge of his nose hard. He was torn between opening up to Pomfrey to seek her advice, or keeping his silence.

"I have not told you this previously; and I _expect_ it to remain confidential, but there is a significant age difference between myself and the young witch I am seeing. She is well of age, there is nothing illegal about our relationship, but I fear it is something we have not fully addressed or acknowledged as yet."

"You mean you've been too busy," Poppy smirked.

"Something like that. Very few people, and by that I mean exactly three, are aware that we are together. The third person to find out was Draco Malfoy, whom I advised you I have taken on as my apprentice. Suffice to say his reaction was ... not favourable. In fact, through an inadvertent Legilimency connection, I would go so far as to say that he was disgusted at the thought of us being together."

"And the opinion of young Master Malfoy matters why?"

"It was an unpleasant window on to what may be waiting for us once our relationship becomes wider knowledge."

"Do you love this girl, Severus?"

"I do. She is an exceptional witch, outstanding in every way. I only doubt her mental faculties for wanting to be with _me_."

"Don't give me that self-sacrificing nonsense, it doesn't become you. If she truly _is_ an exceptional witch, I have no doubt that she has made the correct choice for herself."

"I fear for her reputation, being associated and linked with me."

"For goodness sake, I will hex you if you do not stop with this delusion. Grow up and take a good look at yourself, Severus! You are an enigmatic, powerful and dashing young wizard. You need to show this girl that you are respectful of her _choice_ , rather than denigrating her _choice_ every chance you get. It really is most unattractive."

"If Malfoy's reaction is of any indication, she will meet with disgust at every turn."

Poppy narrowed her eyes, her keen mind stitching together possibilities faster than the dark wizard in front of her could have imagined.

"This young witch. Was she a ... _classmate_ of Draco's, here at Hogwarts? His year group? Could that be why he was so particularly disgusted?"

Severus' pale face flushed so darkly red that parts of his face were almost purple. Poppy would have sworn that he had a tremble in his knee, and could see him covertly wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers. _Oh, she had him._ The little witch who had answered all her prayers by taking this emotional disaster of a wizard in hand and helping him to breathe again was nothing but a tiny slip just out of Hogwarts. No wonder his face betrayed such shame.

"Severus, my dear boy, listen to me ..."

She trailed off as he rose abruptly from the seat.

"I must go. I have said far more than I am comfortable with. I trust that you will keep my confidence. Be assured that nothing untoward, and that means _nothing_ , Poppy, ever happened with this young woman whilst she was a student under my care."

Without waiting for a response, he stalked silently down the ward and out of the large doors into the hallway, where he was able to breathe. Nothing _had_ happened, he thought, apart from the night before she left school. She touched my face when she thought I was asleep and aroused me so much that I wanted to fuck her where I sat, right there at in my desk chair.

He remembered that night as he strode through the hallways, recalled clearly how her small fingertips had felt as they touched his skin, so long had he been starved of affection her touch was like that of an angel, and he had wanted it never to stop. He had been tired, so tired, physically, emotionally and mentally exhausted; and an angel had found her way to him.

Somehow that angel had seen fit to continue to bestow her continued presence upon him, until yesterday, when he had allowed his insecurities to push his fluttering faerie away, push her into the arms of a fucking _Weasley_ , of all people.

\- xxx –

Left alone suddenly in her office, Poppy took a blank potions order parchment from the top of a pile in her desk drawer, filling out a small amount of a simple pepper-up that was needed urgently, and could Draco please deliver it as soon as possible, since Hogwarts was no longer supplying the infirmary as Severus was winding down his extended store cupboard in preparation for the end of term next month.

And could Draco please deliver it to her _personally_?

She summoned a house-elf and had them take the order to the owlery for delivery to the premises of Severus' new business for Draco to find on his arrival at work in the morning.

Interfering? _Possibly._

Necessary for Severus' future happiness? _Definitely._

She smiled to herself.

\- xxx -

Halfway through Monday morning, and Hermione's brain was already hurting, but mostly in a good way. Healer Bergin had visited her and Esther personally to advise them St Mungo's had received confirmation that Advanced Wolfsbane had been declared safe and fit for purpose, and was therefore ratified for use by the Ministry. He was ecstatic to give them the news, and his joy was clear to see in his watery eyes.

Subsequently, they had been given a date three weeks hence to appear before a full and public Wizengamot to present their proposal for reform of the werewolf clauses in the magical creatures legislation. Hermione thought she was going to vomit right there on her desk, but Esther was her usual calm and unflappable self, if anything, she seemed positively excited.

A small voice in the back of her head reminded her that things had been left very open-ended with Severus, but with the vital importance of the next three weeks and the potential to change hundreds of lives that were currently blighted with lycanthropy, she had no choice but to keep it there. Hermione Granger did not allow personal problems to interfere with the execution of a task, even if her heart was aching at the callous way he had spoken to her.

She had a brief moment of worry that he might revisit his self-harming, but then decided that was actually quite insulting to the wizard who had come so far in the last few months in acknowledging his own mental weaknesses, that she was certain he would not allow that to happen, since he had made such positive strides in his life since then. And, her logical side reminded her, you are his girlfriend, not his keeper.

 _Are_? Or _were_? She found herself badly wanting to know the answer.

At the end of that first day after the date had been set for the hearing, she was running on so much nervous energy that Arthur had to practically shove her bodily into the fireplace when they met after work by the bank of commuting Floos. He sat her down at the table and Molly plonked a plate of food in front of her, sitting with her while she ate her own food, as if she believed that Hermione might fall asleep face-first in her dinner.

Ron and Arthur shortly joined them at the meal table, Ron eating expertly one-handed as he held Keah in the crook of his left arm. Hermione told them the briefest details of her day, and explained they had three weeks to prepare the results of months' worth of painstaking research to take before the Wizengamot. All three of them assured her that since it was a public presentation they would all be there on the day to support her from the public gallery, and said she was bound to be successful.

Bless them. The Weasleys could be annoying at times, but there was no denying the genuine love and care they bestowed not only on each other, but on those who needed it, and she thanked them with honest gratitude.

\- xxx –

Draco arrived back at Lawton Barn late on Monday morning after delivering the box of Wolfsbane to St Mungo's only to inadvertently look under a workbench and discover a distinctly female pair of jeans with some red knickers still twisted inside, as if they had been yanked off together in a hurry.

He was half-disgusted at the thought that Snape had been shagging Granger over a bench in their shared workroom, and half-impressed that the greasy old git had been able to persuade her to fuck him in the first place. He did not understand this relationship _at all._ Not one bit.

He drew his wand and banished the offending garments somewhere vaguely upstairs for one of them to find when they were next home. He couldn't believe that he had the juiciest piece of gossip since the troll-like Millicent Bulstrode got caught giving Crabbe a blow job behind a tapestry in fifth year, and was magically unable to be able to repeat it to anyone, not even his father. Although, if he was completely honest with himself, as much as he wanted to crow about his discovery, even if he could, he was unlikely to, out of respect for the professor who had stuck his neck out to take him on and give him a chance of a useful future.

He checked the owlery for post, picking up a couple of scrolls from the delivery basket and settling down on a stool to read them, keeping well away from the spot where he had found Granger's underwear.

The first was a confirmation from St Mungo's finance department that payment for the Wolfsbane delivery had been transferred directly in Severus' bank account. Draco amused himself with a funny vision of a goblin trotting along to one vault to withdraw the required amount, perhaps with a little wheelbarrow, depending on how large the amount of galleons was, before trotting along to another to deposit it. He chuckled to himself inanely for a few seconds, before realising that was probably _exactly_ how they did it.

The other scroll was sealed with a Hogwarts wax crest, and he cracked it open to read. It was a short order from the infirmary, marked urgent. It was only for Pepper-Up, which he could brew standing on his head. Remembering Severus' words that every potion they dispatched had to be perfect, beyond criticism, he opted _not_ to stand on his head, but instead collected a cauldron and carefully assembled the required ingredients before beginning his preparations. He soon had the Pepper-Up brewing, and ate his lunch during the short standing time it required before bottling it in half-a-dozen small vials. He prepared an invoice and packed it with the vials, ready to deliver to Madam Pomfrey after he had cleared up the lab. A lifetime of learning Potions from Snape meant that he knew better than to leave the remains of a brew stagnating in the cauldron.

\- xxx –

He Floo-called the Hogwarts infirmary, and Pomfrey opened the travelling connection so he could step through. He handed her the neatly-packed box, and asked politely after her health.

"I am well, Mr Malfoy, and I can see that gainful employment certainly agrees with _you_."

Draco bobbed his head in acknowledgement, and turned towards the Floo to depart.

"How do you find working with Professor Snape?"

He turned back to her.

"Um, it's good. We work together well. I'm really grateful to him for the opportunity he's given me," he replied, a little awkwardly, not really knowing the old medi-witch particularly well.

"And how do you find having one of your old classmates around? That must be nice for you to see one of your friends?"

Draco stared at her. Was she insane? As if a Slytherin, branded with the Dark Mark before he even came of age would _ever_ have been considered _friends_ with the Gryffindor mate of Harry _fucking_ Potter. Ah well, Madam Pomfrey was so bloody old she must be getting a bit addled now, he supposed. Students must all look the same to her, regardless of what colour tie they wore. He opted to humour her, in order to hasten his departure.

"I don't often see her, to be honest. Granger keeps herself to herself, she's pretty unobtrusive," he lied, thinking of the _extremely_ obtrusive scarlet knickers he'd found, and somehow kept thinking about.

"Ah that's a shame. It's nice to keep in touch. Anyway, don't let me keep you ..."

She chivvied him towards the Floo with indecent haste, bidding him farewell by patting his back as if he had developed an irritating cough. When the flames glowed green, she disconnected the connection for everything except calls, and turned round to face the ward, slowly rubbing her hands together in glee.

 _Hermione Granger_ , well I'll be blowed, she thought. In a strange way, her being with Severus actually made sense. That bushy-haired little madam had always had a mind _years_ older than her age, with a touch of arrogance in her manner of speaking that, now she thought about it, reminded her laughably of Severus. Oh yes, this could be a good match indeed.

Now all she had to do was make sure her boy didn't fuck it all up.


	43. Chapter 43

**With thanks and acknowledgement to** _ **ScarletShad0w**_ **, I've used a quote from your review in this chapter; it was just so perfect, coming from Poppy's mouth.**

 **Chapter 43**

Tuesday evening was tedious as he was on night patrol, but it gave him a chance to take out some of his frustrations on errant little dunderheads who _still_ thought they could get away with the kind of shit they dished out to the other professors. He quickly disabused those he caught of that notion, extracting rather a large amount of housepoints in a variety of colours.

Wednesday had come and almost gone with no contact from Hermione, but he had a free evening once his lessons for the next day were prepared, so he decided to Floo to Lawton Barn for a couple of hours, to generally check up on everything and give himself a little breathing space outside of the dungeon.

He heard a loud squawk from the owlery as soon as he entered the workroom; the birds had clearly heard the _whoosh_ of the Floo and were expecting food. He crossed the room and opened the owlery door, noting the remains of whatever they had been feasting on strewn about the floor and shelves.

"Out of luck, greedy bastards, Draco's already fed you," he taunted, and after checking the basket for post delivery he left them to their own devices, closing the door behind him. They could get in and out easily through the many windows for their use to catch some snacks if they were that hungry.

He checked over the lab, Draco was keeping it in a pristine state, he had to admit. There were some unfiled parchments which had been arranged into piles, and a stirring rod out of place, but nothing he could really complain about.

Walking up the stairs he reached the mezzanine, thinking that when he actually started making money he would purchase some handsome bookshelves to house his precious collection ... which he then remembered was currently residing at Cliffside Cottage. Ah. Luckily he knew Hermione well enough to know she would never destroy a book, let alone a whole library. Destroy his heart, maybe, but _never_ a book.

Carrying on up into the huge attic room, he was assaulted by a rather musty smell. He walked down the room, sniffing as he went, finally locating the source of the smell as a heap of wet clothing in the bath, left behind from their unscheduled dip on Saturday night.

On the way to scoop them up, he almost tripped over Hermione's jeans which were lying inside-out on the floor, her sexy scarlet knickers twisted inside. What were they doing in the middle of the floor? It didn't take him too long to remember that he had stripped them from her body in the workroom downstairs, and they'd most likely been found by Draco on Monday morning.

Aiming his wand at the wet mess in the bath, he cleaned and dried Hermione's soaked bra and tshirt, and his own white shirt. He then cleaned the jeans and knickers, turning them the correct way in and making a small, neat pile of all her clothing. He ought to return them to her, as much as he hated it, this _was_ her favourite tshirt.

He took everything downstairs, making a parcel using brown paper and string from one of the drawers in the lab. He debated putting a note in the parcel, but that plan was soon scuppered when he realised he wouldn't have any idea how to begin such a missive. So he simply wrapped it and took it into the owlery to send.

Giving the direction to one of the smaller owls, he was interrupted by a loud hooting from Hannibal, which he ignored, and continue to attempt to tie the package to the small owls leg, who was wriggling all over the place. Hannibal flew over and barged in between Severus and the small post owl, holding out his leg, imperiously.

"Piss off, you arrogant shit," Severus elbowed the enormous owl to try and shift him, but he remained resolute, holding out his leg for the parcel to be attached.

" _You_ want to take this to Hermione?"

Hannibal opened his large beak and bit Severus hard on the left hand, drawing blood.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, drily, trying the parcel to Hannibal's leg without further comment, since he was as yet unwilling to engage in a battle of wits with an owl.

Hannibal eased himself out of the largest window-hole, before pushing out into the light summer evening, his impressive wingspan quite a sight to behold as he flapped elegantly and with some speed into the distance.

\- xxx –

Hermione was in the garden finishing up an _al-fresco_ supper and enjoying the warm weather for the late time of day with Ron, Arthur, Molly and Keah when a large black dot on the horizon gradually grew larger and larger, until it was so close that it made them all look up.

"Would you just look at the size of that owl!"

Mr Weasley was marvelling at the creature as it approached with a parcel hanging from its leg. Hermione recognised the pugnacious Hannibal at once, thankful that none of the Weasleys knew who its owner was. Her heart leapt into her mouth and her stomach did some ridiculously stupid flips as Hannibal landed surprisingly gracefully on the iron garden table they were sitting at, avoiding all dishes and glasses.

The great bird held out its leg to Hermione, who tried to keep the tremble in her hands to a minimum as she untied the string. She slipped Hannibal a piece of leftover chicken in lieu of an owl treat, which he seemed to enjoy, before pointing his beak towards the parcel and then looking at Hermione. If she were a less sensible witch, she would have sworn the huge black owl _rolled its eyes_ as if non-verbally mocking the package he had been forced to deliver.

She excused herself from the table once Hannibal had departed, taken the unopened package up to her room. Beginning to torment herself with what might or might not be inside, she pulled off the string with a tug, before ripping into the neatly-wrapped brown paper and unfolding it on her bed.

In the middle of the parcel was a small pile of clothes, the clothing she had left at the barn last weekend. Nothing else. No note. No apology. Nothing but the impersonal return of her property. She could have cried, but yet still the tears would not fall.

\- xxx –

At the Ministry on Friday she managed to bury her distress in her work as her and Esther worked tirelessly to prepare the speech, paperwork and questions for their hearing before the Wizengamot, now just over two weeks away. She was fortunate that Esther was too distracted by the amount of work they had before them to notice that anything might be amiss with her colleague.

A young ministry post-wizard came past her desk with the mail trolley, stopping to deposit a number of scrolls on her desk with a leery wink. She smiled politely back and murmured a thank you, hoping he would speedily trundle on to the next desk his rounds.

She riffled through the post, surprised to see a scroll with a Hogwarts seal, and opened it immediately.

 _Miss Granger_

 _I trust that you are well and enjoying life outside of Hogwarts castle._

 _I write to you with a request to visit._

 _I could make up a reason to invite you to the school, but since you are a sharp young woman and since you and I have never had much contact, you would suspect me at once of having an ulterior motive._

 _Hermione, I wish to speak with you about Severus. I know that you know why._

 _If you would consent to visit me in the Hogwarts infirmary, I feel I may be able to shed some light on the current problems you, and he, are experiencing._

 _Please do forgive the interference of an old woman; I will be able to elucidate more when I see you._

 _I shall set the infirmary Floo to your magical signature (which of course, is on your student file here) to allow you to access Hogwarts when you are ready, without needing apparating to the main gates to request entrance._

 _Poppy Pomfrey_

Hermione was completely shocked by the small sheet of parchment she had just read. Madam Pomfrey? How on earth did the _medi-witch_ know about herself and Severus?

Then her heart missed a beat before plummeting down a lift shaft. If Madam Pomfrey was writing, there was only one possible conclusion.

Severus had harmed himself seriously enough to end up in the infirmary.

\- xxx –

After that, the working day had taken an interminable time to end, especially due to the fact that her and Esther had stayed even later than six o'clock to get their week's progress on the presentation neatly in order before the weekend. At great length, Hermione finally headed for the commuting floos, now deserted of ministry workers who had left for home much earlier, to head straight for the Hogwarts infirmary.

Stepping over the hearth of the large fireplace in the hospital wing, brushing the soot from her clothes, she realised she had left not only her cloak but her bag in her desk drawer in her haste to leave the office, and now had an ash stain on her white shirt.

She was greeted by Madam Pomfrey walking steadily up the middle of the ward between the metal beds, which seemed mostly empty tonight. Oh well, it was still early, no doubt some idiot would end up here by nightfall after Friday night pranks in the common room.

"Miss Granger," the old witch greeted her, taking her hand and clasping it in both of hers.

"Madam Pomfrey. Where is he?"

"Where is he?" Poppy repeated, quizzically.

"Yes, Severus. Where is his bed? Did he hurt himself badly?"

Poppy regarding the young woman thoughtfully, thinking how elegant and beautiful she had become in the year since she'd been out of school. No wonder Severus was smitten, and if she remembered rightly, little Miss Granger had a formidable brain to match that would likely have fired his interest as much as her looks.

"Miss Granger, Hermione, if I may?"

Hermione nodded.

"Hermione, please come into my office. I can assure you firstly that Severus is physically well, and I have not admitted him in to the infirmary for any reason."

A little confused, but nonetheless relieved to hear it, Hermione followed her into the glass-walled office and sat down in the same wheeled chair that Severus always used. Poppy sat in her own desk, which she swivelled around to face her visitor and removed her glasses.

"Hermione, you must forgive my intrusion, but I called you here because I wish to discuss Severus with you. I am correct, am I not, in presuming that the two of you are in a relationship? No judgement, I just wish to confirm before I proceed."

"We are. Or rather, we were. We might still be. I'm not quite sure."

"I think I might be able to help with that," Poppy smiled, kindly.

"Has he told you what happened?"

"In a roundabout manner. You know what Severus is like."

Hermione gave her a tight little smile.

"I have known Severus Snape for many years, since he came to Hogwarts at eleven. Should I presume that you know much of his history?"

"I think I know everything I need to know about his past."

Poppy nodded, gravely.

"Over the years, and not just as a student, Severus has spent much time in this infirmary, for various reasons. The two of us formed a rapport, of some sorts, although he would most likely deny that. I care very deeply for him, Hermione. I daresay I see him as, if not a son, but as ... a favourite nephew that keeps getting into trouble. Does that make sense?"

"Um. A little?"

"Severus is not generous with his feelings. He gives away nothing, and even then it is reluctant. However, I have seen a noticeable change in him during the months he has been growing closer to you - a light in his eyes, better self-care, better nutrition, a more positive demeanour. I believe that you have had a very positive impact on him."

Hermione smiled more warmly now, pleased that Madam Pomfrey thought that of her.

"Until a few days ago when something has seemed to wither and die behind his eyes," she continued, in a sad tone. "He has told me a little of what happened."

"With respect, that was not my fault, Madam Pomfrey. We had a conversation that touched on where we saw our futures, and he would not accept that I saw myself with him. He practically sent me away to go and find a new lover!"

Poppy gave a resigned sort of smile, and gently shook her head.

"Ah, that boy, so frustrating. He believes he deserves nothing. Until now, he has not known any lasting, warm relationship in his entire life; everything he has ever had has been destroyed or taken from him. In his opinion, everyone is bound to leave him. So now the two of you are at this stage, it is easier for him to destroy your relationship, thus proving that you didn't care for him enough, rather than face the constant anxiety that you will end the relationship."

"But I never gave him any indication that I was thinking of leaving him! I don't want to leave him! I love him, Poppy."

"And it gladdens my soul to hear you say that, dear. But Severus is a complex man, as well as being a stubborn goat. Not that that excuses his behaviour towards you, he is still a grown, intelligent man. But even if he wants something desperately, such as the way he appears to want _you_ , he will persistently deny himself. Honestly, I would beat him around the head to knock some sense into him, if I thought it would do any good."

Hermione couldn't help a smirk as she had a vision of the aged Madam Pomfrey chasing Severus around the infirmary, smacking him repeatedly around the head with a bed pan.

"I'll tell you what I wished for him, at the beginning of this academic year. I wished that he would find a partner, someone to love him for everything he is, as well as everything he isn't. My worry was that there wasn't a witch alive who could accept his multitude of flaws, whilst receiving no affection or tenderness in return."

"Well," Hermione began, "that simply isn't true. Severus is kind and gentle, loving and romantic. He shows me he loves me in a million different ways, as well as saying it. He cooks for me because he knows I am dreadful at it. He makes me laugh with his dry, acerbic humour. He loves walking on the beach with the sea breeze messing up his hair, and then begs to me to comb the knots out when we get home. When he kisses me and looks at me with those black eyes of his, he makes me feel like the only woman in the world worthy of his attention ..." she trailed off.

Poppy was looking at her with an expression of happy disbelief on her face.

"I cannot tell you how pleased I am to hear this. Could it be time to accompany me to the dungeons and sort this mess out? I believe there is a surly bastard of a potions master who is desperate to see you, even if he refuses to admit it."

\- xxx –

Severus was sitting at his desk in front of the empty potions classroom, still clad in his full teaching robes as he had not long returned from a tedious staff meeting. He was arranging his marking for over the weekend, and debating whether to stay at Hogwarts or spend some time at the barn.

The heavy door to the classroom swung open and he looked up, ready to blast the head from the shoulders of the student who had dared enter after hours and without knocking. Instead he was surprised to see Poppy Pomfrey entering; and even more surprised to see her ushering none other than his Hermione in afterwards.

"I apologise to both of you for interfering," she began. "You will have to put it down to me being a very old woman, who cannot keep her nose out of the business of others, especially when the pig-headedness of one is causing such distress to both. You have both told me separately that you are utterly in love with the other – so _please_ , address these issues before you drive yourselves apart. Alone is a terrible place to be, believe me, I should know."

And with that she closed the classroom door quietly behind her, leaving Severus and Hermione staring at one another. This was the first time he had laid eyes on her since he'd seen her snogging Weasley at the Burrow, and she had the gall to look utterly ravishing. She had clearly just come from straight from work, in a tailored white shirt with a straight black skirt and simple mid-height heeled shoes. Her mane of hair was coming loose from her pulled-back style, falling maddeningly around her beautiful face, her intense brown eyes searching his own.

Hermione did not move from the door as she looked upon the austere man sat at his desk, the way he always had done when he taught. His eyes were black and unreadable. Suddenly, he had his wand in his hand, and shot a locking spell at the door, and she heard it clunk loudly behind her. He pushed his chair back from the desk, and beckoned with a finger.

"Come here, Miss Granger."

She walked towards the front of the classroom, her heels clicking slightly on the stone floor. He kept beckoning her until she stood directly in front of him as he sat in his chair, their knees level and almost touching. She gasped as he leant forward and put both his hands up her skirt, pushing upwards until he reached the sides of her knickers, grasping them and pulling them to the floor, indicating for her to step out of them, leaving her shoes on. He placed them neatly on the desk next to him, before raising his head and searing her eyes with his, a familiar black fire beginning to burn there.

"Severus ..."

"I do not believe that is how you are obliged to address your teacher, Miss Granger."

Oh. Oh. _Ohhhhh_. Instruction.

"I apologise, Sir. Professor Snape. I forgot myself for a moment."

"Obviously."

Severus felt his cock lurch in his trousers as she addressed him in exactly the same manner as she always had in the classroom. _Fuck_. He really was a disgusting pervert, but at this moment he was hard-pressed to care. He was being assaulted with all sorts of conflicting emotions, from love for his girlfriend, to hatred that she had done ... _goodness knows what_ ... with Weasley, to the raw lust that he felt at her standing bare-arsed in front of him, awaiting his next move.

Without removing his eyes from hers, he lifted his hands to her chest and began to slowly unbutton her white shirt, starting at the top and moving downwards, untucking it from her skirt as he moved lower. Once all the buttons were undone he pushed the material apart, revealing a plain white bra, which he began to touch, enjoying the sensual pleasure of the feel of her breasts and hardening nipples through the soft material.

Becoming more interested, he reached into one of the cups and pulled out one of her breasts, sitting it atop the bra, before doing the same with the other and beginning to rub tiny circles on her nipples, one with each hand. As he heard her breathing begin to increase he started to twist and pull on the erect buds, enjoying how they looked served up like two puddings on top of her bra.

He could not resist leaning forwards and taking one in his mouth, sucking her areole in deeply whilst continuing to roll the other between his fingers. He could feel her body begin to shake beneath his hands.

"You are not dressed appropriately for my classroom, Miss Granger," he said, in a low voice, dripping with threat, as he released his suction on her breast and heard her mewl in annoyance as he sat back in his chair without applying equal treatment to the other.

"I'm sorry, Sir. What would you prefer me to be wearing?"

"Less," he growled, pushing her tight little skirt up to the top of her thighs.

"Turn around and sit on my lap. I need to feel your hot little arse wriggling against my cock."

He spun her around and pulled her down to sit on him, her legs either side of his closed thighs, and dragging her further so that her back lay against his chest and her head lolled back on his shoulder. He returned his hands to her breasts and continued to torment her nipples, cupping and squeezing her tits with his large hands and using his fingertips to pinch her taut peaks as she began to writhe deliciously in his lap, and he could hear her beginning to pant and murmur next to his ear.

"That's it, little witch. Roll around in my lap. Rub against your professor's cock like a good girl. Make me harder."

He pushed his thighs apart, spreading her legs wide, which pushed her skirt up over her mound. Not wasting a second, his slid his hands down to her wet pussy and delved inside, using one hand to hold her labia open and the other to find her clitoris, which was already hard and sensitive.

He used his feet to wheel the chair out from behind the desk as he played with her private parts, turning it to face the classroom fully with no huge desk in between. _Fuck_ , he would remember this every _fucking_ time he taught in this classroom, flicking Hermione Granger's clit in full view of the entire room. Greasy git? _Don't make me laugh_ , he thought to himself. Look what I have in _my_ hands.

The exposure to the large, familiar room seemed to be arousing the wiggling bottom in his lap also, and he increased the friction upon her bundle of nerves, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger like a tiny spinning top. Her orgasm would not take long. It was nearly upon her, he could tell. He knew her body inside and out, quite literally.

He turned and placed his lips against the side of her head, which was lying upon his shoulder, and began to release a litany of filth that he growled quietly into her ear.

"You want to _come_ , don't you, little witch? You like your greasy old potions professor getting your clit out and tugging on it in front of the class, don't you? Your legs are open so wide, that when you come, your juice will drip right out on the floor here. Come on, angel, feel my fingers, show us what you have."

He spread her lips even wider with his free hand, and took a tighter hold of her anxious clitoris, pulling it away from her body and wiggling it from side to side, moving it faster and faster until she had no choice but to surrender and release, her pussy spasming beneath his fingers and bucking her hips in his lap.

Severus took his hand away quickly after she had come, and moved both hands so that they held her cunt lips wide apart, feeling her vagina contract against his fingertips as he held it open to the cool dungeon air, as if exposing her fully before the imaginary audience.

"Stand up, Miss Granger, before your heaving cunt soaks my teaching robes."

He pushed her up to a standing position, and rose behind her, supporting her weak body with his strong arms and chest. Turning her to the left, he bent her over his desk, pushing her skirt up around her waist and using one hand to release his cock from his many layers of clothing.

Once his purple-headed erection was free, he ran his hands greedily over her arse cheeks, squeezing them like prize peaches before pulling them apart, eager to get his cock inside her before he spunked on the floor.

She moaned long and loud as he sank his prick into her in one swift movement, straight to the hilt. _Fucking Merlin_ , he'd never interfered with a student in his entire career and had never once felt the desire to, but this moment was something completely transcendent, nailing this girl he loved over his own desk in the classroom he had effectively imprisoned himself in for twenty years.

 _Fuck you,_ Hogwarts. _Thrust._

 _Fuck you,_ Dumbledore, you controlling old poof. _Thrust._

 _Fuck you,_ Marauders, _fuck you,_ Snivellous, and yes, even _fuck you too_ , Lily Evans, you petty, unforgiving, bitch. _Thrust._

And most especially, _fuck you_ , Tom Marvolo Riddle, because Severus Snape ... is _alive_.

He closed his hands around her hips and buttocks, grabbing a firm hold as he pistoned in to her hard and fast, fucking his demons away. This angle was clearly touching all the right spots for her as he felt (and heard) her orgasm around his invading cock, first once, then again.

The sweat was building up on his brow and upper lip, sticking errant strands of black hair to his forehead as he drove himself hard, as if he was being graded on delivering the fuck of his life.

"Hermione!" he shouted, "You know what you do to me, witch. I love you! I fucking _love_ every fucking inch of you ..."

He put his hands flat on the small of her back and pushed down to tilt her channel as he shot his load inside her, keeping his hips moving so as to expel all of the hot seed that felt so amazing coming out of the end of his cock.

He held himself in place, coming down from his orgasm and feeling himself begin to soften before he removed his prick. Tucking it quickly back inside his trousers, he dropped to his knees and began to lick Hermione's pussy, cleaning her up, the wetness a mixture of them both, but he certainly didn't care.

Once he had drunk his fill, he sent a Tergeo to take care of the rest so she was comfortable, before standing her up and wandlessly adjusting her clothing so she was decent before turning her around to face him.

He deliberately brought his hand up to wipe the residue from around his mouth, before taking hold of her face, dropping his head and pressing his lips to hers, forcing her mouth open with his tongue and kissing her as deeply as he could.

Hermione could barely breathe, but she loved him kissing her with such passion. Every part of her body was a trembling mess from the sexual experience they had just shared. She reached her hands up and began to twist them in his long, black hair, the way he loved.

Severus stopped kissing her when he felt her touch, and removed her hands from his hair.

"Remember that, _all of that_ , when you are fucking _Ronald Weasley_ for the rest of your life," he sneered, coldly.

She couldn't believe she had heard him correctly.

"What? What on earth do you mean by that?"

He moved his face dangerously close to hers.

" _I. Saw. You_."

"Saw what?"

"Last Saturday night. I apparated to the Burrow to attempt to apologise and bring you home. But, taking in the view from the living room window, it looked like you were perfectly content to stay where you were."

His face was a picture of incensed accusation. It took her a while to catch up to what on earth he was talking about, but a memory of Ron's lips on hers for a split second as she held the baby ... just before she'd stopped him ...

"Severus, that was nothing!"

"It was something ... _to me_."

"Honestly, let me show you, let's use your pensieve ..."

"I have no desire to see that incident ever again. I said to you that you needed to have more experience without someone other than myself, younger men. I confess I had not expected you to take me at my word with _quite_ so much speed."

"Severus, this is stupid ..."

"I love you, Hermione, but I will not allow you to make a fool out of me. Hopefully tonight will have shown you the _merits_ of an older man, let us describe it as a nice little memory for you to take with you. I have left my chamber door unwarded for five minutes so that you may use my Floo to return home. If you take longer than that, it will lock and you will need to walk to the castle gates to apparate. I would suggest the Floo."

She stood there staring agog at him, not quite able to believe what she was hearing; and unsure how to defend herself without using the pensieve. He reached behind her and picked up her knickers from the desk.

"Four minutes. And I shall be keeping this pair."

He stalked across the room, unlocking the heavy door as he approached it, stuffing her knickers into his trouser pocket as he walked. As the door slammed shut behind him with considerable force, she didn't need telling again. She shot into his chambers and into the Floo, calling out _Cliffside Cottage_ , rather than the Burrow. _Anywhere but there_.


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter 44**

She stepped into the living room of Cliffside Cottage, which was fairly dim but through the large windows overlooking the sea there was a gorgeously rich golden sunset making its way below the horizon that was throwing beams of light across the room, and illuminating the airborne dust. Hermione drew her wand from her sleeve and flicked it at the curtains, shutting out the view and plunging the room into darkness.

She stood in the middle of the rug, still taken aback by what had just happened with Severus. Despite not knowing of her impending arrival in the potions classroom, he had gathered his composure with indecent haste and powerfully seduced her, fucking her into an advanced state of bliss before letting his killer blow fly.

The worst of it was, she could still feel him inside her, the nerve-shreddingly erotic way he had taken her body apart, piece by piece, raw sexuality oozing out of every part of him. _That_ feeling had to go first.

Turning around and heading to the bathroom via the small kitchenette, she flicked on the muggle overhead electric light and set the water in the tiny shower cubicle to run warm, before angrily stripping off her office clothes and climbing inside, surrounded by steam. She stood under the cascade as the water began to pound heavy and hot on her head and drip down her face, finally allowing the tears of hurt and frustration to fall, not holding back from the much-needed release of the humiliation she had suffered. She cried herself out until her throat was sore and her eyes red and swollen.

 _Bastard_ , she thought to herself. You fucking _arsehole_.

How could he think, even though he had seen her with Ron through the window that night; that she would throw away everything they had together? Did he honestly think that she thought so little of him?

And then with an unexpected jolt, Madam Pomfrey's words came back to her, haunting her with their ghostly clarity.

 _He believes he deserves nothing._ _In his opinion, everyone is bound to leave him._

So, that would be a yes then. Severus truly believed that she thought nothing of him, despite all the times she had told him she loved him, all the actions that showed how much she cared. All this counted for naught when he began to panic and search for reasons he should not be with her.

Could she love a man who needed such constant reassurance? And furthermore, upon receiving that reassurance, would be persuaded to disbelieve it at the slightest turbulence? What kind of life would that be for her?

 _And those, Hermione,_ she thought, _are the questions you need to answer, and quickly._

After her shower, she wrapped herself in big white towel with another around her wet hair, and grabbing her wand carefully climbed the tiny spiral staircase that led up to the main bedroom, a small space with nothing but a wall to wall bed, and a piece of floor that the staircase was cut into. She had left a pair of pyjamas strewn on the bed last time she was here, and for once was blessed by her untidiness since she had brought nothing with her, even her bag and cloak were in her desk drawer at the ministry.

Shooting a quick Tergeo at the pyjamas, a freshening charm upon the bed-linens and her own drying and detangling spell at her own head, she lay back on the large, soft bed, looking up at the rapidly darkening sky above through the slanted roof windows. She was emotionally and physically exhausted from this last week, both due to Severus and from the stress of work. Tomorrow, she would begin to unravel the answers to her questions, but as for now, now she would sleep.

\- xxx –

Severus left Hermione in his classroom and billowed through the stone hallways towards the infirmary like a malevolent bat seeking its prey. His cock was still throbbing uncomfortably after he had crushed it into his trousers while it was still semi-hard. Moisture was seeping from the tip and was soaking through his shorts. He would need a shower when he returned to his chambers, but first, he had an interfering old medi-witch to deal with.

He opened the hospital wing doors with a slam, trying harder than usual to make sure they crashed against the walls behind them. The beds were all still empty, unusual for a Friday night, and he could see Poppy in her office, reading by the light of a small lamp.

Reaching her door quickly, he loomed in the open doorway.

"How dare you, Poppy?"

She did not answer, and did not turn to look at him. She appeared to be engrossed in looking at something she held in her hands. He took the empty chair and sat heavily in it, wheeling over to her and spinning her own seat around to force her to look at him.

"Listen to me ..."

He was cut short by seeing the old woman's eyes were full of tears, and that the object in her hands was a photograph of a young couple, smiling and waving to the camera as they moved around the wizarding frame on a three-second loop.

"What is this?" he asked, his tone softening somewhat but still brisk and dripping with accusation.

"This was my lover, many years ago."

"Oh?"

"We did not marry. Too many arguments and misunderstandings. I was too tempestuous, too quick to believe the worst of him. He left me in the end, for another witch. A quieter sort."

His eyes narrowed to suspicious slits.

"Why are you weeping over him? And why now?"

"You and your young lady Miss Granger brought the memory back to me. I usually keep this photograph hidden in my drawer, away from prying eyes. So much fire you have between the two of you, Severus, which brings so much potential for disharmony such as you are experiencing now. But with fire comes great passion, an insatiable need, a very outstanding kind of love. The kind of love that transcends the mortal faults and foibles of each participant and makes their love ... extraordinary."

"The thought of this man upsets you?"

"I threw it away because I could not see his point of view, would not see past my own hurt, as if _my_ feelings were the only ones that mattered in our relationship."

"That surprises me about you."

"I have learned from my mistakes."

"You never married, did not have children?"

"I did not. No man ever quite matched up to Laurence here."

"I see."

"As I told you _both_ , Severus, it is a terrible thing, to be alone."

He remained silent as he took in her words, before rising from his chair and walking out of her office and back down the ward, closing the main doors quietly and respectfully before he left.

Poppy grinned to herself, returning the photograph of herself and her first and only boyfriend back to her brimming box of pictures that she kept under her desk. It was entirely correct that no man had ever matched up to Laurence. They broke up because Poppy had matured and realised her true sexuality, and the truth of the matter was she had been happily living in Surrey with a witch named Vera for the last fifty years, when not on duty at Hogwarts. They had never opted to have children, despite magical means being available to them.

Not that Severus would have noticed, always so wrapped up in his own drama.

He had also positively _reeked_ of sex, so it was clear he'd either taken her right there over his desk, which she wouldn't put past him, or they'd made it to his chambers before one of them said the wrong thing and fucked it all up yet again. Her boy really did have a lot to learn about decent behaviour when in a relationship.

She couldn't help chuckling as she remembered how angrily he had swept in to the infirmary a few minutes previously, as she put her plan into action, a plan that had been hastily conceived whilst returning to the hospital wing after leaving Hermione in his potions classroom, just in case Severus was his usual arrogant self and things did not go well and he came seeking retribution for her interference.

Well, he'd arrived angry and left with his tail between his legs and a whole new outlook from which to think about his relationship issues.

By her calculations, of course allowing for her very great age, being doddery, ancient and possibly senile, (all names she knew she'd been called behind her back) Madam Pomfrey made that twice in one week she had out-Slytherin'd the Slytherins.

 _Stupid boys._

\- xxx –

Hermione was standing at the back fence of Cliffside Cottage nursing a cup of tea in the morning sun, looking out over the sea that was choppy but still looked inviting. She had transfigured one of the white bathroom towels into a bathrobe to put over her skimpy pyjamas which served the dual purpose of keeping out the brisk morning chill, and avoiding too much attention from early morning dog-walkers on the cliff top.

Having gone to bed so early she inevitably rose earlier, and was grateful for the sight of the beach in the early morning light, it calmed and centred her, and gave her a peace of mind that was essential for the day's thinking and decision-making that was before her.

Her wand was in the long sleeve of her bathrobe, and after checking that no one was about, she drew it and cast a muggle-repelling charm around the whole perimeter of the property, including the garden. This was the same charm that had been used on a grand-scale at the Quidditch World Cup in her fourth year, and therefore she had no doubt that if _Repello Muggletum_ had kept muggles away from an entire stadium it would work well enough on her little cottage. She had also used it successfully, albeit in temporary blasts, to hide their camps during their months on the run leading up to Voldemort's defeat.

She wondered what her cottage now looked like from the outside to any neighbouring or passing muggles. She knew from reading _Hogwarts – A History_ , that the school appeared as merely the ruins of an ancient castle to the eyes of a muggle, and anyone seeing it would be overcome with a strong urge to leave the area immediately.

She walked back inside, satisfied that with her new charm, and the security wards that Severus had already applied on his first visit, the cottage was entirely safe for her to be there alone, and the knowledge was liberating.

Having no clothes or money was slightly more problematic, as she needed to leave the cottage to buy food, and could not do this in pyjamas, nor without any money. After a few failed attempts, she was able to transfigure her work shirt into a plain white tshirt, her skirt into a pair of straight black jeans, and her high-heeled shoes into a pair of flat pumps.

Severus had relieved her of her knickers the previous evening (her stomach lurched as she remembered him seductively beckoning her over, and without saying a word sliding his hands up her skirt to pull them down her legs) so she had no choice but to remain pantless, but the jeans covered everything so there was no real problem. Having no access to money, however, was.

She opted first to search the cottage, to see if there were any muggle notes or coins stashed away anywhere from years ago that she might chance upon. After aimlessly opening and closing a few drawers in the kitchen, she thought of a much better idea, and used her wand to cast a revealing charm to locate any money that might be in the house.

There was a loud thumping noise from the little spare room, which was off the sitting room and had been used by her as a child when she stayed here with her parents on holidays. She headed there at once, and was met with the sight of the child-sized bed, bookcase and cabinet that was kept in there. What was also in there, of course, was the large trunk of books that her and Severus had brought back from Spinners End, restored to its normal size and stored here.

The lid of the trunk was thumping madly, so she flipped the catches and creaked it open. On the top of the piles of books was the folder that Severus had taken from his dresser at Spinners End which contained his house deeds, muggle passport and driving licence, and most helpfully, a supply of banknotes along with his cards and cheque book for his muggle bank account.

She doubted very much that he would be unhappy with her using some to buy food in her current situation, considering she was caretaking his books, so putting a little of the cash in her jeans pocket she headed outside, opting to take a stroll to the village via the seafront promenade rather than apparate.

The rest of the day passed in blissful silence, spent in a mixture of lying on the sofa thinking, making and eating a series of snacks rather than cooking in earnest, and reading a wizarding novel that she had borrowed from Severus' collection. After the upheaval of the week she'd had, the peace and quiet was more than welcome.

Halfway through Sunday, she had made up her mind that she needed to leave the Burrow. Her primary reason for moving in there initially was that earlier in the year she had been too scared to live alone, needing the comfort of familiar people around her, and genuinely enjoying being cosseted by Molly and Arthur. She had stayed because it was always going to be a short-term arrangement, with herself, Ron and Ginny moving into Grimmauld Place in the summer after Ginny finished at Hogwarts.

Now that plan was no longer going ahead, as Ron had his new responsibilities as a father, Ginny wanted to live away for at least a year playing Quidditch, and Harry had admitted he hated the sight of the old Black townhouse, and was intending to sell it and move in with the Weasleys.

A lot had changed this year. She had grown and matured, gained her clutch of outstanding NEWTs, and become a reliable member of the team in her department at work. She was on the cusp of overturning an unjust piece of long-established legislation and the thought thrilled her.

She liked silence, she liked calm, she liked space to read, work and think. She wasn't sure that riotous night-time chats in the Burrow with Harry and Ron were something she wanted or needed, they weren't in the Gryffindor common room any longer, she was going to turn twenty in three months, they were all adults.

And then there was Severus. Professor Snape. Master of Potions. Ex-headmaster. Ex-Death Eater. Spy. Abused child. Bullied teenager. A tortured man whose soul seemed to respond only to the call of her own.

She wanted to be there to soothe his mind, to support his recovery and help him to live with his mental frailties and damaged heart. However she _also_ loved him passionately and completely, not because she felt sorry for him, or wanted to _fix_ him, but as a woman loves a man.

She would give him the space to clear his head, using the time apart to focus wholeheartedly on the Wizengamot hearing, without any personal issues clouding her head.

Pointing her wand at her temple, she drew out the memory of the night in the sitting room at the Burrow with Ron that Severus had inadvertently witnessed and taken so badly. She decanted the silvery coils in a small glass jar she found in the kitchen, screwing on the lid before sealing it magically.

When she returned to the Burrow that evening she would package it and use one of the Weasley owls to deliver it to Severus at Hogwarts with a note encouraging him to view the memory, if only for his own peace of mind.

And after that?

Well, then the quaffle would be _entirely_ in his hoop.

\- xxx –

Severus returned to his chambers after his unexpected talk with Poppy, feeling quite chastened at finding the old witch so upset, and the reason why. As he entered his classroom, the wards told him that someone was still inside, and his gut lurched.

Had she stayed?

He wasn't sure whether he would be happy or angry if she had. He was feeling utterly conflicted, on one side overcome with love for the small witch, on the other the nagging feeling that he should let her go now to avoid heartache in the future.

He pushed open the classroom door and his heart sank, even further than it had been on the walk back from the infirmary.

Faith Burbage was sitting at his desk. _Shit._ She must have been able to enter while the wards were temporarily down to allow Hermione to exit.

His first thought was that he was mightily glad that Hermione's knickers were safely ensconced in his trouser pocket, his second was that she would have to be like Voldemort and missing her nose to not notice the smell of sex that was over his chair, his desk and the floor around where she was sitting.

"Good evening, Professor Burbage. Take a seat in my chair, why don't you?"

He did not move from his position by the door.

"Now, now Severus," she chided, waggling a manicured fingernail at him. "Anyone would think you didn't want me here."

"I do not."

"Why are you so cold to me? The other men in this castle haven't been anywhere near as hard work as you are."

This witch really was a piece of work.

"What can I do for you?" He kept his voice neutral and professional.

"I need a vial of contraceptive potion, please. The monthly one."

He curled his mouth in an unkind sneer, unable to keep the disgust out of his voice.

"You mean you have been; forgive my indelicacy, shagging your way around this castle unprotected against pregnancy?"

"Oh! No, of course not. I arrived with a small supply of my own, but now I find that I have used my last bottle."

"I do not medicate students or staff. Madam Pomfrey takes care of all medical and health needs, so that records can be properly kept in the infirmary. I suggest you go to her."

He waved his hand impatiently to indicate the door, and that she should leave, which the infernal woman ignored.

Faith leaned back in his chair and crossed her legs, resting her elbows on the arms of the chair and steepling her fingers under her chin. She was beautiful, but he hated the sight of her.

"Why won't you fuck me, Severus?" she enquired, bluntly.

"I do not care to follow where another man has already been."

"You mean you only fuck virgins? What a sordid little practice. Death Eater revels gave you a taste for untouched flesh, did they?"

"Get out. You disgust me. You know exactly what I meant. My colleagues have already had their fill of you; I shall not be joining them."

She reached forward and swept a finger across the edge of the desk, where a smear of his and Hermione's mingled fluids were visible. Bringing her finger to her nose, she gave him a knowing smile.

"Well, Severus, you might be refusing _me_ every time, but you're certainly fucking _someone_ , aren't you?"

"Whether I am, or am not, sleeping with someone, is not one bit your business. Now I am telling you, get out of my classroom before I have you removed."

Faith stood up and sashayed towards him.

"Do you fuck your students, Snape?" she asked, narrowing her eyes viciously, coming to a halt directly in front of him, as he stood by his classroom door.

"What a disgusting question. Out!"

She reached up and pushed her finger into his mouth, forcing him to taste the familiar tang of Hermione's delicious cunt against his tongue.

"Taste familiar? You're fucking someone, Professor, and this castle is full of old witches that wouldn't interest you. I'm the only one even remotely close to your age, and you won't allow me any closer to you than the day I started here. So, where do your tastes lie? Because some little witch just got fucked on that desk, and don't even deny it. What's her reward, an O grade NEWT or a clutch of emeralds in the Slytherin hour glass?"

Faith smiled crudely, her leering expression a combination of excitement and malice.

He leaned towards her and mustered his most menacing glare, hoping to freeze the slut where she stood.

"Get. Out. Do not make me tell you a third time. I am too tired for your outrageous accusations."

"That must be why you're leaving, Snape. Getting too old to keep up with those seventh years."

His colleague gave him an insolent look that he longed to slap right from her face, before leaving the classroom, not closing the door behind her. He heard her footsteps quieten as she moved further down the dungeon corridor.

Slamming the door and warding it, he stalked to the back of the classroom, shooting a cleansing charm all too belatedly at the desk, chair and floor before continuing into his private chambers, where he warded his personal door aggressively, and came to a halt behind the sofa, clutching the back of the ageing grey fabric as if he needed the support to stand.

There were just two weeks left of the summer term. Two weeks before he could leave this thrice-forsaken place forever. Two weeks before STS Potions became a full reality.

He wished Hermione was there with him, and that none of the events of the last week had ever happened. But they had, and he had regrettably dealt with them using his own particular blend of sensitivity and cruelty.

Hermione Granger was lost to him, if she hadn't already been before this evening; he had certainly hammered that point home tonight. But he _would_ leave this castle with dignity and his reputation as an educator intact, whatever Faith Burbage was trying to infer.

Two more weeks.

He could do this.


	45. Chapter 45

**Chapter 45**

Severus had sent a message to McGonagall to request a meeting directly after breakfast, not risking Burbage hearing him ask at head table that morning. He waited in her office, having thankfully been admitted by the gargoyle, saving him from loitering in the corridor waiting for her to return from the Great Hall. He stood up as she entered, partly out of respect but mostly from habit.

"Severus," she nodded at him to be seated, and walked swiftly around to the other side of her large desk and sat down.

"Good morning, Minerva. I apologise for requesting such an early meeting, but I fear that a rather large problem may be about to rear its ugly head, and would rather forewarn you."

"That sounds ominous. I won't offer you tea, since we have both just finished breakfast, so please do just tell me what you believe is about to happen."

"I'm afraid it will necessitate me giving you a little history first."

Minerva nodded again, and leaned against the back of her chair, as if making herself comfortable for a long speech.

"Professor Burbage," he stated, simply, and watched her shake her head, slowly and gravely.

"How I hoped I would not hear that name from your lips, Severus. Please tell me you are not another of my male teachers who has succumbed to that young woman's dubious charms?"

He arched a black eyebrow to convey surprise that she was aware of Faith's proclivities.

"You are aware?"

"Do you think there is anything in this school of which I am not fully coherent?"

 _Yes._ He thought of the times he had snuck Hermione into his chambers.

"What do you know?" he opted, rather than directly answering her question.

"I know that both Gregory Prollins and Avery Goldsmith have already enjoyed ... _liaisons_... shall we call them politely, with our Miss Burbage. I had hoped very much that you would not be a third. Please put me out my misery, Severus?"

"Minerva I can assure you that I have not had relations of any nature with Faith Burbage."

She seemed visibly relieved, and allowed a tight smile to flit across her lips.

"I cannot say I am not delighted to hear that. So what is the problem, what can I help you with?"

"It is not so much something I need your assistance with, more something that I wish to warn you about."

"Go on."

"As I have stated, I have _not_ slept with Professor Burbage, but that is not for the want of her trying to engage me. On repeated occasions, I might add."

Minerva rolled her eyes in a manner that suggested she was disappointed, but not unsurprised, gesturing with her hand for him to continue.

"On each occasion I have turned her down, she has become more vitriolic in reaction. The most recent time, which was last night, she waited for me in the potions classroom and I found her sitting at my desk. When I refused her again, she made accusations that I had been interfering with students, even going so far as to directly insinuate that I had been having sexual relations with seventh year girls. Having taught here for twenty years, I am hoping I do not need to confirm that any such allegation would be entirely false."

Minerva's lips made an _oooh_ of shock and she whistled loudly in disgust.

"Now there is a nasty piece of work right there. Severus, there has never in twenty years been a complaint of that nature made against you, and I fully believe that you have never interfered sexually with a student in your care. I thank you for bringing this accusation to my attention. Faith has not mentioned anything to me as yet, but then it is still early, we have all only just finished breakfast. I appreciate being forewarned. What am I to do with that girl? As yet, she has not broken any school rules, she is discreet enough in her liaisons, and she is an excellent History of Magic professor, very popular with the students. Unless, of course, you wish me to apply disciplinary procedures for her continued harassment?"

"I do not. I can cope easily with a woman such as her, and in any event, I am leaving the school in little over two weeks. My only concern would be if she were to make false accusations against me."

"Then we shall be ready for them if she does. Do you have anything else you need to tell me?"

Severus' pale face blushed. There was indeed something he needed to tell Minerva, it was certainly well past the time when he should have done so. The wily old headmistress caught his flush and pulled a characteristically expectant face, folding her hands in front of her. He shuffled awkwardly in his seat, checking his coat was fastened and his teaching robe lying neatly in his lap, before meeting her keen eye.

"The reason why Professor Burbage decided to accuse me of sleeping with students is because ... she happened to observe the products of sexual congress upon my classroom desk."

He said the last part rather quickly.

Minerva let out a loud hoot of surprise at the words that had just left the notoriously dour mouth of her Potions professor. She looked across at his face that was slowly turning from slightly pink to a delightful shade of mortified puce, and could not help the laugh that escaped her.

"Severus Snape! _Products of sexual congress_? Are you telling me you ejaculated on your desk?"

"Not by myself; Madam," he muttered.

"You're going to have to fill me in, Severus, using words of plain English, because I have no idea what you are trying to tell."

"You are killing me, Minerva," he bit out from gritted teeth.

"Allow an old woman her fun."

"If you insist. I suppose I am not in any position to refuse. Firstly let me assure you I have not been ... _masturbating_ in my classroom."

Minerva smirked, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

"I did, however, exercise very little restraint and common sense when I had intercourse with my girlfriend on my desk last night. I confirm that the door was securely locked."

He opted not to begin telling her the current woes that had actually befallen his relationship with the aforementioned girlfriend, thinking that he'd given Minerva more than enough personal information to be content with.

The mouth of the old headmistress gaped open in shock and for several seconds she appeared unable to formulate a response.

"Well. Now _that_ wasn't what I was expecting you to say. Ordinarily, Professor, I should be reprimanding you for such disgusting behaviour in your place of employment; however as live-in teachers we are effectively imprisoned here for months on end. You are not the first professor to smuggle a partner into the castle and I daresay you won't be the last. You have clearly been discreet if, as I presume, this has been going for a while?"

"It has, indeed."

"I see. Would this explain all the weekends you were secreted in your chambers, ostensibly researching in your private lab? And does this young lady have anything to do with you resigning your post and beginning a new life with your potions business?"

He breathed out, ready to tell the complete truth.

"She has ... _everything_ to do with it," he admitted, "I do not think I would have had the courage to do this without her."

"She must be a remarkable woman," Minerva stated, "not least, Severus, to put up with _you_."

McGonagall grinned wolfishly to show that she meant the comment affectionately, and he allowed a curl of his mouth to return it.

"She is ... outstanding."

"Well then I declare myself delighted to hear this news. I hope to receive an invitation to your bonding ceremony."

Severus opened his eyes wide in alarm.

"That will certainly not be happening any time soon. She is still ... very young. I need to allow her time to make her own choices in life before expecting her to tie herself to me."

"Young or not, it seems that she has invested time and energy in you. That sounds like a witch who knows a good thing when they see it. But even the best witches won't wait around indefinitely. Don't leave it too long, Severus, take my advice."

"I have absolutely no idea how to respond to that, Minerva. The thought of asking her to bond with me has never crossed my mind."

"Well, it should have," she snapped, "all these weekends hiding in your dreary chambers? That doesn't suggest a witch who isn't serious about you. Bloody Merlin, boy, do you know nothing about women?"

"Very little, clearly," he drawled.

"Then start learning. You are a lucky man."

She waved her hand to dismiss his from her office, and began to needlessly shuffle some parchments on her desk. He rose from his chair, bowing his head in farewell and began to move towards the door.

"Just be sure to wipe your spunk off the desk next time, Severus," she chided, not looking up from the parchment she was now scribbling upon with a jauntily-plumed quill, but he could see a most amused smirk at the corner of her mouth.

Severus all but scrambled out of the heavy wooden door and down the stone staircase.

He had no wish to hear Minerva McGonagall mention the word _spunk_ in his presence ever again.

\- xxx –

Hermione arrived home after work on Monday – truly, blissfully _home_. She had floo'ed to Cliffside Cottage directly from the Ministry and for the first time in a very long time, since before she had obliviated her parents, she felt like she could breathe freely in a space of her own.

The previous evening she had returned earlier than she'd planned to the Burrow and advised the Weasleys of her decision to move from their home into her family's cottage, and explained the reasons why. Arthur had nodded understandingly, Ron had looked disappointed, and Molly had been visibly upset, wondering aloud if she had done anything wrong.

Hermione had spent a long time thanking Molly for her love and care, reassuring her that this was merely her next move towards adulthood, and escaping with an agreement to attend dinner at least once a week at Burrow, which she thought wouldn't actually be a bad idea, considering how dreadful her cooking was.

Ron had left Keah with his parents and helped her to collect up all her things, of which there weren't many, and travel back and forth through the connecting floo taking everything to the cottage, so that it was ready for when she returned from work the next day, allowing her to go straight home.

Having grown up as a muggle, there were often times when she _loved_ magic, and packing up her worldly belongings to effect a house move in a matter of minutes was one of them. She remembered how Severus had packed up Spinners End so quickly, admittedly by vanishing most of the contents of the dilapidated house, but nonetheless it was a task that would have taken hours, if not days, to do without magic.

She had spent her last night at the Burrow, enjoying a special meal that Mrs Weasley appeared have conjured out of nowhere, along with a gift of a handwritten book of recipes, cooking charms and household spells that Molly presented her with, her eyes red and misty.

"I've been putting this together for Ginny since she was a little girl. It seems only right to give you a copy too. No, please take it; this is a copy of the original."

Hermione felt that Molly's sons could _also_ have made good use of a home guidance manual such as the one that had been pressed into her hands, but now was clearly not a moment to mention her feminist principles to a homemaking stalwart and traditionalist such as Molly Weasley. Besides, her non-existent culinary skills could use all the magical help they could get.

The boys weren't her sons, not her responsibility. She wondered if it was Molly's intention to make all her boys useless to keep them returning. If so, she wasn't doing that well, although it didn't seem like Ronald and Keah would be going anywhere soon. Hermione thought of Severus and his skill in the kitchen, born of necessity from a neglectful childhood. He certainly didn't seem to think a witch's place was in the kitchen, and she had loved him for it.

She stepped over the hearth and blocked the Floo to receive calls only, she didn't fancy uninvited visitors. Taking off her shoes and cloak and leaving them where she stood, she began stripping off clothes as she headed towards the shower, in the blissful abandon that one can only exhibit when home entirely alone.

Later on, as she relaxed in silence on the sofa as the sun set over the horizon, glass of wine and a thick book in hand and a large window open to enjoy the scent of the ocean, she mused that she had most certainly made the right decision to move. She had space to breathe, space to clear her head, space to prepare for the Wizengamot the following week.

She would resolutely _not_ be thinking about Severus Snape.

She would do that later.

\- xxx –

Later that week, Severus was sitting restlessly on the battered, hardened grey sofa in his chambers, desperately trying to ignore the pull of the lidded jar on top of the sideboard where he kept his pensieve. The swirling, twisting grey matter inside, not a liquid nor gas, but unmistakeably a memory, curled its smoky fingers enticingly from the clear glass, beckoning him closer.

It had arrived by owl late Sunday night, accompanied by a note from Hermione imploring that if he did nothing else, if they never spoke again, _please_ view her memory that she'd enclosed so that he would not be left with the wrong impression of _that night_.

So far he had resisted. He had no wish to see Ronald Weasley's lips on Hermione again, he was still angry that she had allowed it, although he was finding the thought that he might never speak to her ever again infinitely more depressing. He had sent her away, sent her back to the arms of that ginger prat and his bastard kid, where her warm heart would most likely let them both in.

His fingers twitched with the anticipated movement that he would leap from the sofa and wrench open the memory, tip the contents into his pensieve and dunk his head into the truth. But still he did not move.

He was still wrestling rather stupidly with his own brain when there was a crack of elf apparition and Fen appeared in the room, pink of cheek and breathing heavily as if he had run a great distance to be there.

"Master of Potions will excuse Fen arriving without being called, Sir. But Fen needs Master to go to the classroom of the Missy History Professor right now, Sir!"

Severus regarded the small elf who had always given him such trustworthy and reliable service, now standing in front of him, pulling at his long ears in anguish.

"You want to me attend Professor Burbage's classroom? For what reason?"

Fen went bright red and his eyes bulged as if he was holding in a very great secret. He leaned towards Severus and began to whisper hoarsely in a conspiratorial manner.

"Missy History is ... _making human babies_."

"Making human what ... _ah_ ," Severus remembered how Fen had caught him and Hermione enthusiastically shagging on _that_ particular morning.

"Fen, I understand I need to explain this better than I undoubtedly will, but you should know that Professor Burbage is prone to ... _making human babies_ ... with many different wizards all over this castle. One more is unlikely to make much difference to her tally."

The elf gave him a disgusted look, as if he had just told him that his cleaning wasn't up to par, or his food was cold.

"Fen knows _that_ , Master of Potions. All elves is knowing that Missy History likes to make babies with lots of castle wizards. Fen is not _stupid_."

"I apologise, Fen. So why the urgency with this particular, baby-making session?"

He was unable to believe that he was engaging in such a ridiculous conversation with a house elf. If Fen was going to spy on Faith Burbage, he would have to learn the word _sex_ sooner rather than later.

"Because Missy History is making babies with a boy wizard! In a blue tie. From the blue tower. Fen knows this is not allowed. The boy wizard will lose his housepoints from the big glass in the Hall!"

Severus leapt from the sofa, the movement that had eluded him earlier suddenly becoming an easy manoeuvre.

"She's fucking a student?" he roared, making the elf take a step back in shock.

"Fen does not know of _fucking_ , Master of Potions! But the Missy professor is making human babies with a blue boy. On her desk in the classroom of History!"

Severus was about to race out of his chambers, through his classroom and down the hallways to the History of Magic classroom, the thought of catching that evil slut second only to rescuing whatever boy she had in her clutches, when Fen took his hand in his small, cold one.

"Fen has a quicker way, if Master will be excusing?"

He allowed the elf to apparate him to the door of Faith's classroom, where he cast a silent Alohomora upon the locked door, and deconstructed the simple ward she had placed upon it. Honestly, it was amateur.

He allowed the door to swing open, casting a silencing charm so that it did not make a single squeak. Standing in the doorway like a dark spectre, he remained motionless so that he could take in the scene unfolding.

Faith Burbage was flat on her back atop her desk with her legs wide apart, her shirt open and her breasts being inexpertly squeezed by the hands of Xavier Fortescue, a seventh year Ravenclaw and the son of Florean Fortescue, the owner of the ice-cream parlour in Diagon Alley.

Xavier was standing between her legs where her skirt was pushed up around her thighs, pumping his cock into his History of Magic professor, who was shouting encouragement at the enthusiastic young wizard. He, for his part, looked as if he couldn't believe his luck.

Severus breathed a small sigh of relief that the boy involved was thankfully of age, not that it excused what was happening before his eyes, but it clearly wasn't assault, or corruption of a minor. However, Hogwarts professors were in a position of responsibility over their students, and of age or not, that made for an unequal relationship, hence why such encounters were strictly prohibited.

He was reminded uncomfortably of the night Hermione had visited him in the potions classroom, the day she left. _That was different_ , he forced himself to think, _you did not touch her; you did not even acknowledge her presence_. That fact that he had not stopped her was more of a grey area, but not so much that it would prevent him taking the appropriate action in this instance.

He shot a freezing spell at the copulating pair, keeping them in position, before sending Fen off to collect Minerva, bidding the small elf to bring the headmistress immediately by apparition, rather than have her running down the corridors at her age and at this time of night.

Whilst waiting, he approached Faith and the young wizard she had seduced, who although unable to move, were quite capable of hearing and speaking.

"Fuck you, Snape," Faith hissed, her eyes murderous.

"Never managed that, did you, Professor Burbage?" he goaded. "Everyone else perhaps, but not me. Thankfully I am little more ... _discerning_ , than that."

"Sir, I am sorry," began Xavier, his erection likely subsiding but yet stuck inside his professor.

"Don't apologise to me, Fortescue. I suggest you begin your apologies firstly with Professor McGonagall, and then move on to your parents. No doubt they will be summoned here as soon as practically possible to collect you."

Minerva cracked into the room alongside Fen, and took in the scene before her with a dignified sweep of her eyes.

"They are under a Petrificus Totalis, Severus?"

"A variation of it. I wanted you to see them exactly as I found them."

"I agree that was important, as distasteful as it is to witness. Now I have seen, please kindly reverse your spell; and you two, clothe yourselves immediately."

Severus removed the freezing charm and was amused by the pair scrabbling to cover themselves.

"Minerva, I trust you have no further need of my presence here, since you have witnessed the transgression for yourself?"

"Thank you, Severus, you may leave. Fortescue, Professor Burbage, please accompany me to my office. I think we have parents to inform and a staff member to let go. What a shame I shall be spending my last few days of term interviewing for a new History of Magic professor, since the current one is not only a danger to the male student populace, but also sees fit to harass my male staff."

Severus ushered with his left arm and allowed Minerva, Faith and Xavier to exit the classroom first, Faith shooting him a furious look to which he only returned a satisfied smile.

He began to walk back to the dungeon with what can only be described as a spring in his step. He owed Fen a great debt for his speedy notification.

All he wanted to do now was tell Hermione what had happened.

In lieu of being able to do that, he summoned his pensieve, the jar containing her memory, and his courage – before lowering his head into the shallow bowl and finding himself in the living room of the Burrow, watching a tired-looking Ronald Weasley pace the floor, feeding his red-headed infant.

He heard footsteps on the stairs and watched his reason for living enter the kitchen, fetch a glass of water and engage in soft small talk with her friend, before he passed her the baby to have a try at bottle-feeding it. He embraced her from behind, and Severus walked over the window, sure enough there he was in the shadows like a vampire bat, staring unblinking at the scene before him.

Weasley kissed the back of her head, and a couple more times on her cheek before plonking his lips on her without permission, and holding them there unmoving for a few seconds before Hermione had gently pushed him away, reminding him that he was emotionally vulnerable and shouldn't confuse her friendship for something more. He had apologised, they'd hugged, and almost straight after that she'd gone up to bed and the memory faded, ejecting him from the pensieve.

Ah. It had happened just like she'd said, then.

He really was a fucking idiot.


	46. Chapter 46

**Chapter 46**

Severus woke up the following Friday in the huge sleigh bed at Lawton Barn, secure in the knowledge that he was certainly _not_ where he was supposed to be.

It was the last day of term at Hogwarts before the start of the summer holidays, and earlier in the week he had decided to abscond a day early, thus saving himself the excruciating agony of a final day as Potions Master, which would no doubt be accompanied by staff spouting sentimental epithets that they did not mean, and barely disguised glee on the faces of the students as the most hated professor in Hogwarts history finally left the castle.

He had spent the last three nights emptying his school chambers of all his personal possessions, which again consisted mostly of books, although there were his clothes, quills, his pensieve, some whisky glasses and a few pieces of brewing equipment from his private lab which he had purchased himself. All the furniture and linens belonged to Hogwarts, but he did purloin a number of the soft blankets and cushions to adorn his new sofa at the barn.

All these items had been packed and taken through the floo to Lawton Barn, leaving his chambers as stark and bare as the day he had moved in. He had ensured the classroom, store cupboard and the private lab and stores were all in order; clear and clean for the next incumbent.

In the dead of night on Thursday, he had written a note to Minerva explaining his actions, arranging for Fen to deliver it to her before she attended the Great Hall for breakfast. He was sure her fury at him jumping ship before she could foist a leaving celebration upon him would be a sight to behold, but once she calmed down, he had no doubt that she would understand.

He did not tell Fen he was leaving, the loyal but rather irritating elf was liable to scupper the whole plan by attempting to stop him going. He did not go to the infirmary to bid farewell to Poppy, he would be seeing her regularly in the future regarding the supply of potions so he did not feel it was necessary. There was no one else he cared about enough to inform he was going, and he had no desire to prolong his leave-taking any longer than necessary. This way, he would circumvent any awkwardness.

He looked around his chambers, not sorry or fearful to be leaving his self-made prison, and lifted all his wards for a final time before throwing a handful of floo powder into the fire, and heading towards his new life.

He lay naked in his new bed, nudity a being a rare treat that he seldom practised in the frigid air of the dungeons, unless Hermione had been visiting and warming his sheets with her own soft skin.

To be enveloped in crisp white linens (chosen by Hermione) selected by his then-girlfriend to be soft on the lacerated, still-healing skin on his back, gave him a feeling of calmness, clarity and relief. Even without Hermione's presence and support, he had still been able to leave the castle.

The warm July sun streamed through the windows in the loft, heating the room and casting beams of positive, promising light. It was as different to waking up in the dark, cold dungeons as it was possible to be, and he enjoyed languidly stretching.

He had another excellent reason for not wishing to tarry at Hogwarts for his final day. Today was the day of Hermione and her colleague's presentation before the Wizengamot, which was a public event and there was no way he was not going to be there.

Since viewing her memory, he had purposely not bothered her, knowing that she was so close to the conclusion of the case she'd been preparing for months. He decided that to burden her with his apologies and set her mind thinking about romantic matters would distract her from the task in hand, and therefore he'd opted to leave her well alone to complete what she had set out to do. She deserved her moment to shine, and prove what she was capable of, without having to consider _him_.

He would sit unobtrusively at the back of the courtroom and watch as his outstanding witch took her research before the Wizengamot. Once she was successful, as he had no doubt she would be, he needed to set about repairing the damage that his own twisted thinking and self-hatred had done. He just hoped it wouldn't be too late.

\- xxx -

Hermione sat with Esther and Pridmore at the presenters' desk in the courtroom of the Wizengamot, still empty thus far, although a few early arrivals were starting to file into the raised public gallery. Hermione had let Esther know the previous week that her and Severus had split, to explain her somewhat melancholy state, and the experienced witch had advised her to throw herself into her work, and forget all about the _fucking bastard prick who didn't know how fucking lucky he was_.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she shared, eliciting a sympathetic smile from Esther and a grimace of disgust from Pridmore.

"No you're not, darling. We are all over this. You know it."

"I do. I do know it. Goodness, this feels like sitting my exams all over again."

"We are well-prepared, Hermione. We know what to do."

Esther's tone was confident and reassuring, and Hermione tried to repeat her words like a mantra inside her own head.

She had spent the last fortnight working endlessly on their proposal, enjoying the quiet solitude that living in the cottage provided. Her thoughts had drifted to Severus many times, especially at night, curled up alone in the large bed beneath the skylights, tired and stressed, and wishing his strong arms were around her, his lips touching her forehead, whispering words of comfort in her ear.

She missed him so much it physically _hurt_ , and had no way of knowing how he was feeling. Having offered the olive branch by providing the memory, there was nothing further she could do if he chose not to respond, or even view it.

It had been fortunate she'd had the presentation to focus on, or she might have driven herself demented with longing. A worry niggled at the back of her mind that once today was over she was going to have to face the reality that their relationship was over, but she pushed the niggle away, as she had done expertly so many times already.

"Oh, bloody Merlin, he didn't," she heard Esther exclaim quietly beside her.

Hermione followed her friend's eyes to the public gallery which was beginning to fill up, since the members of the Wizengamot were due to take their places imminently, and saw exactly what had caught her attention.

"I think you'll find he did," Hermione replied, her body flooding with a sudden rush of fight-or-flight adrenaline, forcing her to her feet and out of a back door of the courtroom behind them.

\- xxx –

Severus arrived at the Ministry in plenty of time before the hearing and walked around the atrium, attempting to ignore the covert looks and whispers of the workers and public milling around him. He sighed. Wherever he went he provoked a reaction, be it admiration or disgust. Every person had their own opinion as to the true leanings of the infamous Severus Snape, and weren't afraid to voice them loud enough for him to catch their gist.

"Severus!"

A voice called louder than the rest, and he turned to see Andromeda Black striding confidently towards him, a wide smile on her face, looking more like a groomed Bellatrix Lestrange on an _Elixir_ _to Induce Euphoria_ than he would have remembered. As she reached him, she clasped his arm.

"Severus, so good to see you! Are you here for the Wizengamot hearing?"

"I am indeed. But what are you ..."

"Doing here?" Andromeda finished.

He nodded, raising his eyebrows in question.

"I consider it a personal responsibility to be here. Teddy has proved negative for werewolf blood in testing, but with his parentage, I don't think I can ever completely rule anything out. If this reform is passed today, it will quite literally change the lives of thousands of lycanthropes. If it turns out that Teddy is one of them, I want to see this legislation changed."

"Admirable. And where is young Master Lupin today?"

"Draco is babysitting."

"Draco?" Severus couldn't help smirking in amusement at the thought of his prissy and fastidious apprentice caring for a mobile infant, likely to expunge from both ends.

"He is ever so good with Teddy, he loves looking after him. He's actually keeping him until Sunday morning, giving me a bit of time off, you know?"

"I'm sure it must be difficult, raising a child on your own," he replied, non-committally.

"It is, Severus, and although I don't consider myself _old_ , I'm certain that baby-rearing should be left to the _young_ witches. Of course, you'd know all this, if you had answered my owl!"

She waggled her finger at him in mock condemnation, which he privately felt was rather over-familiar, but didn't wish to be impolite on his first day officially rejoining the wizarding world, which was how it felt, leaving the security and structure of Hogwarts.

"Please accept my apologies. I have been inordinately busy setting up my new business whilst continuing to teach through my notice period at school."

"But of course you have! The wolfsbane variant, how exciting! Dear Caspar at St Mungo's told me all about your miracle invention."

"It is hardly a miracle. I simply varied the original formula to allow the potion to be stored, removing the necessity for each dose to be brewed and consumed fresh."

"Well, I want to hear all about it! Would you accompany me into the courtroom? I believe they'll be starting soon. Perhaps afterwards I could persuade you to join me for lunch?"

"Perhaps. Thank you."

Out of courtesy he offered Andromeda his arm which she took, and the two of them walked towards the large public courtroom where Hermione was to deliver her presentation. He actually felt nauseous, and wished to all the world he did not have Andromeda Tonks/Black hanging from his arm.

They entered the courtroom, and descended the steps into the public gallery, the back rows already filled, foiling his plan to sneak in un-noticed. Andromeda clung to his arm down the steep stairs, finding them seats right in the very front row. _Damn you, witch._

As they seated themselves, Severus noticed Hermione's colleague, whatever her name was, look up and catch his eye, and watching her lips move, clearly saying something to Hermione, who looked up at him in horror, before standing up and dashing out of the back door of the courtroom, closely followed by the blonde witch.

 _Blasted fuck._

\- xxx –

"Breathe, Hermione, _Breathe_ ," Esther encouraged her young, curly-haired colleague, who was flapping her hands ineffectually in front of her face in an effort not to burst into tears.

"I'm trying!"

"Calm _down_."

Esther breathed slowly and deeply, encouraging Hermione to copy her and take in fresh air to fill her lungs that had constricted from the shock of seeing Severus enter the courtroom for her presentation accompanied by another witch.

"Hermione, listen to me, darling."

Esther forced Hermione to look at her, and she nodded.

"You can foist whatever revenge you want on the arsehole afterwards, but now, _right now_ , this is our moment. This is what we've been preparing for. I don't know what Snape is playing at but you _have_ to ignore him and get over it. _Now_."

Pridmore Ulbrecht crashed through the door, red-faced and clearly angry.

"What the fuck are you two doing? Wizengamot are just entering! Get out there!"

He spun around and let the door close behind him.

"Can you do it?"

Hermione Granger lifted her chin and steeled herself.

"Oh, I can do it," she smiled, with a confidence she was forcing herself to feel.

"Then let's go."

Esther opened the door and held it open for Hermione to walk through, and both witches took their place back at the presentation desk.

\- xxx –

"Witches and Wizards of the Wizengamot, we stand before you today to request changing an unjust piece of legislation that states werewolves should be treated as magical creatures, and therefore subject to registration and employment control."

Esther's clear, confident voice rang across the courtroom as she opened their presentation.

"A werewolf is created via an attack on the afflicted person, not born," Hermione took over the refrain of their well-practised opening speech, "to suggest that a person afflicted with lycanthropy through a vicious attack should be controlled as if they were a troll, a mermaid or a house-elf is archaic, insulting and unjust."

They talked and talked, pouring out before the gathered court and packed public gallery the hours of research they had painstakingly put together, that would hopefully leave the Wizengamot in no doubt of the decision that needed to be made.

"A witch or wizard who becomes a werewolf at the full moon, and at no other time, due to an attack, is as worthy of our protection as those who suffer curse damage, injuries or medical conditions. We have been treating our lycanthropic community as a danger, as a sub-human being to be controlled and regulated, when we should have been treating them with compassion, and with medication for their condition." Esther continued, before speaking extensively about how the current legislation was discriminatory against a vulnerable section of wizarding society.

Hermione stood up to present the next section, and Severus' heart leapt into his mouth. She was going to speak about his potion. He had seen enough of her preparation to know. _Go on, my darling, you are a warrior. Fight for what you believe in._ He was utterly entranced by her; by her intelligence, her poise and her visible passion for what she believed in. She was outstanding. Not for the first time, he was forced to think upon what a stupid, _stupid_ bastard he was.

"A potion exists to alleviate the symptoms of lycanthropy at transformation. The ingestion of Wolfsbane during the week of the full moon allows the lycanthrope to safely transform into a harmless and drowsy wolf, whilst retaining the use of his or her own mind. The problem with this potion is that it must be taken fresh from a smoking goblet, meaning that most werewolves cannot reap its benefits, unless they are a competent potioneer.

There is also the issue of cost, as the ingredients are expensive, and the current restrictions prevent werewolves from seeking gainful employment. However, a variant of Wolfsbane has been researched, thoroughly tested and approved. This variant allows the Wolfsbane to be stored in hospitals, apothecaries and healers' offices, and distributed to those who need it during the week of the full moon.

We propose that the distribution of Advanced Wolfsbane is magically recorded, so that employers can be sure that the lycanthrope they employ has taken their potion, and therefore can safely work alongside others, at no risk to them whatsoever. Time off work would need to be pre-arranged for those times that the lycanthrope is physically transformed.

The cost to the ministry of ensuring that every werewolf is provided with Advanced Wolfsbane would be significantly less than what is currently spent controlling them. Not to mention the quality of life for these afflicted humans would be immeasurably improved.

We owe these witches and wizards a huge debt. Medicated transformed werewolves are not dangerous. A person with lycanthropy, when it is not a full moon, is not dangerous. Let us now put right our wrongs by changing the law and providing the treatment they need in order to live their lives in peace."

Hermione eyed each member of the Wizengamot, ensuring that her words had sunk in, before retaking her seat. The public gallery erupted into applause, but this was quickly subdued by the Chief Warlock. Everyone sat in tense silence as the members of the Wizengamot conferred on their decision. It went on for an interminably long time before the Chief Warlock rose from his seat, tucked the end of his long beard into the pocket of his robes, and everyone held their breath.

"The decision of the Wizengamot is thus," he began. "We find the testimony of Miss Miller and Miss Granger to be pertinent and correct. The Wizengamot, on behalf of the Ministry of Magic, hereby rule that every registered lycanthrope is given the opportunity to receive Advanced Wolfsbane.

Should the lycanthrope refuse treatment, they will remain under the control of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

Should they accept, the Wolfsbane will be administered and recorded by a Healer or Apothecary. _Subject to continued adherence_ to these terms, the lycanthrope will be free to seek any employment that he or she wishes and will no longer remain under the control of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

It will be illegal for an employer to discriminate against hiring a person who has a lycanthropic status, provided that the lycanthrope is registered for Wolfsbane. Involuntary leave during the period of transformation must also be granted.

This is the ruling of the Wizengamot and hence becomes law, superseding all previous laws on this matter."

He rapped his gavel smartly on a roll of parchment which magically sealed itself and flew away to be recorded in the Ministry archives. Hermione's eyes flew open as wide as saucers, her reaction written all over her little Gryffindor face. He yearned to kiss it.

The members of the Wizengamot rose and began to file out of the courtroom as the noise in the public gallery became louder and louder with explosions of cheering and applause. Looking around, Severus could see that many witches and wizards were in tears, clearly this ruling was about to change their lives forever.

He looked down at Hermione and her colleagues, currently being embraced and thanked by Caspar Bergin, his face red and swollen, shedding unabashed tears and his heart swelled with pride. _His_ outstanding little witch had achieved all of this.

"What an excellent result! Shall we, Severus? I believe lunch in muggle London is calling us!"

His reverie was interrupted by Andromeda trilling over-enthusiastically next to him, gesturing for him to walk up the stairs which he reluctantly did, tearing his eyes away from Hermione. He did not feel Andromeda lightly touch his lower back to guide him out of the row of seats and onto the first stair.

Hermione saw it though, as she was being congratulated by the St Mungo's staff. It felt as if she was being stabbed through the heart, and she wanted nothing more than to race up the stairs and remove the hands of that dark-haired witch from _her_ wizard.

David Bergin grabbed her around the waist and swung her into the air.

"You did it! I can't tell you how good this feels! Please, Hermione, tell me I can take you out for a drink to celebrate ... please?"

Esther had heard his invitation, and was making _Say Yes_ faces earnestly with her eyebrows.

Hermione turned back to face David, who had returned her to the floor and was looking at her with hopeful eyes. He was a good man. A hard worker and thoroughly decent person. Not bad looking either.

As difficult as it would be, she had to accept that what was gone, was gone.

"That would be lovely, David. Thank you."

His face lit up.


	47. Chapter 47

**Chapter 47**

Saturday morning found Severus spending his first day as a self-employed wizard hard at work in the huge laboratory in Lawton Barn. He had risen early, enjoying for the second day running the novel feeling of the hot early sun beaming through the low loft windows, illuminating the floor and warming his chilled, weary bones.

He put together his first meal in the small kitchen area, a breakfast consisting of an egg and bacon muffin made from the provisions he had purchased the previous afternoon after he had made his excuses to Andromeda, having effected the shortest luncheon that he could get away with.

She was a pleasant enough woman, but he could not fathom why she'd suddenly latched on to _him_ in the way she had, the owl she'd sent him out of the blue offering the hand of friendship had been strange enough. Perhaps she really _was_ extraordinarily lonely and therefore doing her best to cultivate new adult friendships in the wizarding community. Her married life had been largely lived as a muggle alongside her husband Edward Tonks, and he suspected her new status as guardian for her grandson, whom he had heard was a very visible Metamorphmagus, would inevitably raise some eyebrows in the muggle world. It was unsurprising she needed to return to her magical roots.

He wasn't really too much the wiser after their lunch together. Andromeda had ushered Severus towards the large, goblin-run brasserie in the ministry atrium, a popular venue overlooking the restored Fountain of Magical Brethren, where many ministry workers took long lunches. It had the advantage of not having to change one's attire to venture into a muggle establishment, and was a busy enough place not to suggest an _intimate lunch for two._

They had ordered their food from a sulky-looking goblin, Severus careful to order something small which would not take long to eat so he could release himself, respectfully but as quickly as possible, from her company which she had all but foisted upon him before the Wizengamot hearing. Severus' mind had been pounding with the hurt he had seen on Hermione's face when she saw him, to all intent and purpose, arriving with Andromeda Black on his arm.

Andromeda had continued her conversational thread of her all-encroaching loneliness, of wanting to rejoin the wizarding world and leave her self-enforced muggle life behind. She had been spending much time at Malfoy Manor with her sister Narcissa, and despite a recalcitrant and ever-present Lucius, she enjoyed being there. Draco had formed a strong bond with Teddy, she explained, hence why she felt comfortable leaving the child in her nephew's care for the weekend.

Severus gave away nothing about STS Potions that she had not already heard from Caspar Bergin. He felt on some level that he needed to be polite to Andromeda, but as for a friendship, Severus Snape did not _do_ friendship. He had convinced her against dessert, and drunk merely a small coffee to finish his meal. She had dropped some heavy hints that she was _free and available_ the _entire weekend_ due to Teddy being with Draco, but Severus was having none of that.

He was unsure whether she was suggesting anything more than mere friendship, but he didn't intend to be around her long enough to find out. Apart from Andromeda's startling resemblance to the odious Bellatrix, which was like an ice-cold jet of water to the groin, the thought of sharing _any_ kind of intimacy, be it physical or emotional, with any witch who was _not_ Hermione, was abhorrent to him.

He was keen to get back to the barn and prepare for the next day, which was to be a full day of contacting potential clients and drumming up business for the brewing service that he needed to be established and profitable before he could be financially secure enough to begin stepping back and concentrating on further potions research.

He also badly and urgently needed to contact Hermione, but had no idea whether she would hex him where he stood. He seemed to have done everything wrong in relation to her, through his own stupidity and lack of confidence in her feelings towards him, which he supposed she found rather insulting.

Having lived his whole life without the irritant of _relationship_ complications, (aside from the whole thirty-year Lily Evans Potter obsession that nearly got him killed) he found it most discombobulating to now have to think as a partner would do. As a _boyfriend_ would do. He really was not very good at it, to say the least.

After greatly enjoying his home-cooked muffin, washed down with copious amounts of coffee to stimulate his mind, he headed for the lab and began put quill to parchment, creating a letter advertising his brewing service that would be magically duplicated many times over and sent to apothecaries and private healers. He was finding new locations from a battered wizarding business directory that officially belonged to Hogwarts but that he'd _relocated_ a couple of days previously, spotting the great use it would be to him.

He was absorbed in his work when the Floo activated an hour later, and Draco came through, holding a chubby blue-haired baby astride his hip. Severus looked up from his position at the workbench and cocked an eyebrow at his apprentice.

"Good morning, Draco. Is there something wrong with my apparition porch that necessitated you utilising the Floo?"

"That porch is so small I rarely make it without at least one scratch or bruise."

"You should learn to be more accurate."

"And my injuries remind me of that every time."

Severus smirked.

"Anyway, I couldn't risk it today, don't want to hurt the little fellow, do I? Do I, Ted, mate?"

"Ah yes, the child. Draco, you appear to have a brought an infant into my home without prior arrangement. Are we now running a babysitting service?"

The dark wizard looked Teddy straight in the eye, unsmiling through his curtain of thin black hair, and the toddler looked most confused. Clearly, the spoilt child was used to people gushing and cooing over him whenever they met.

"Flah!" he exclaimed, throwing both his short arms in the air.

"Yes, Master Lupin," Severus mocked, "Clearly you are blessed with the same level of vocal articulacy as your father was."

"Flahhh!"

"Indeed, I quite agree. A salient point; Edward."

Draco bit back a smirk at the sight of Snape conversing with a one-year-old, filing it away in his memory to laugh at later with a purloined glass of his father's firewhisky.

"He can't talk yet, Sir. He is only a few months past his first birthday."

"I am not an idiot, Draco, do not treat me as such. I am well aware as to the _restrictions_ in this young man's speech. I am merely wondering if it is genetic."

At this, Draco failed to choke back his laugh, earning him an angry eyebrow from his former professor, who seemed to tear his gaze almost reluctantly away from young Teddy.

"Thank goodness I am free of Hogwarts and shall no longer have to control the offspring of a werewolf and the clumsiest auror ever to pass through the training programme."

He stood up and walked over to where Draco stood balancing Teddy, surprisingly offering a long finger for the baby to grab.

"Your hair, Lupin, is entirely against regulation. Although I am sure that shade of blue will be welcomed in Ravenclaw."

Teddy puffed out his cheeks as if he was thinking hard, and began to strain, turning his face red with the effort. Severus took a step back.

"Draco, I believe your young charge is taking a shit. Please remove him from my laboratory until he is toilet trained."

To the amazement of both wizards, Teddy stopped straining. His blue hair was now a vibrant scarlet, spiky and tufty on top. The toddler looked extremely pleased with himself.

"I think he's trying to tell us he's not a Ravenclaw, Sir."

Severus pulled a disgusted face, although Draco suspected he was trying to hide the fact he was grudgingly impressed by Teddy's ability to metamorph his appearance at such a young age.

"Of course," he sneered, curling his lip, " _This_ particular wolf-cub _would_ be nothing but a bloody Gryffindor."

"Door!" screeched Teddy, loudly, twisting around awkwardly in Draco's arms.

Draco set the squirming toddler down on the flagstoned floor, and Severus winced as he began to teeter unsteadily around the workroom, thankful that he had only parchments well out of the little fiend's reach, rather than a benchful of bubbling cauldrons on the go.

"So, nice mood," Draco ventured, "The same nice mood you've had for the last couple of weeks. Girl trouble, Sir, if I may be so bold?"

"That, Draco, is none of your business."

"It is if I have to work every day with your miserable face."

Severus looked up in surprise at the disrespectful language.

"I'm sorry if that offends you, but while you were working your notice period at Hogwarts, we couldn't really annoy each other. Now we're going to be with each full time, I think I'm entitled to say what I think."

"Is that so?" Severus retorted, suspiciously.

"Yes. I've busted my arse the last few months for you, Severus, and yes, I'm going to call you Severus. It doesn't mean I don't respect you, it just means that I want us to have a good working relationship. I've done everything you asked of me, haven't I?"

Severus sighed deeply.

"Above and beyond," he reluctantly admitted.

"Well then. Let's get to know each other better than just professor and student, or a couple of shit-scared Death Eaters."

"You go too far."

"We can't pretend it didn't happen. I'm not proud of anything I did, and I don't want to have cosy chats discussing it, but I'm not going to deny it."

Severus opted not to reply to this. His thoughts were that Draco would feel far worse about having been a Death Eater had he been involved as long and as deeply as himself. _I murdered Dumbledore to save your soul, you arrogant little shit_ , he thought. Not for now though. A conversation for another time. _Everything_ was a conversation for another time when it came to the dark times of his life.

Draco continue to blunder into the silence.

"So, what happened? Why haven't I seen Granger here since that first day? It was obviously more than a one-night stand, and your mood since then, no offence, has been bloody awful."

"I think that you made your opinion on my relationship with Miss Granger more than clear, Draco." Severus told him, icily.

"But I didn't ... _oh_. Legilimency. Crafty. I didn't even feel it."

"There was no need for Legilimency, Mr Malfoy, your disgusted thoughts were projecting themselves with such volume I could not help but hear."

"Look, I was shocked, of course I was. And jealous. I mean, look at her! How could _you_ get a witch like ..."

Draco trailed off, Severus' darkening look warning him to change the direction his speech was heading towards.

"But, she seemed to really like you! She did all that work for you, and the way she looked at you ... when you weren't aware, Severus. I can't believe what I'm about to say but I'd bet a large amount of Galleons that Granger is actually in love with you."

"You could see that?" Severus questioned, and Draco gave a curt nod in reply.

"Then why couldn't I?" he mused, more to himself than to the younger wizard.

Draco left a sensibly long window of silence before continuing, quietly.

"What happened, Sir?"

"That, you do not need to know. Suffice to say that I stupidly allowed her to slip through my fingers, and that she resides with the Weasleys who would be a fool not to get her safely married off to one of their many sons."

"She lives at the Burrow? In Ottery-St-Catchpole? That village is the arse-end of nowhere. Since when?"

"Since she left Hogwarts. Her muggle parents were ... _lost_ during the war."

At that point they were both jerked back to the reality of the situation as the loud clatter of several metal cauldrons rolling around on the stone floor rang out across the large room. They both charged around to the other side of the furthest workbench to find Teddy Lupin sitting quite happily inside the largest cauldron they possessed like a human potion ingredient, having clearly pulled them all out from under the bench, smiling broadly and rolling smaller ones around him on the floor.

"I think it is time for you to remove young Master Lupin from my laboratory." Severus told him, drily. "I shall being doing paperwork today so I will cope quite well without you. I shall see you on Monday morning, when we shall have a lot of work to do."

"Agreed. Come on Teddy, mate, up you come."

Draco lifted the chubby toddler from the cauldron with surprising gentleness, hefting him astride his hip and heading towards the apparition porch.

"I thought you did not wish to use my ineffectively small porch?" Severus jibed.

"I can apparate _out_ of it, no risk there. Its only coming _in_ you need to hold on to your elbows," Draco grinned, lifting his hand in farewell.

He entered the porch and held Teddy firmly against him, Wilkie Twycroft and the three D's in his head as he concentrated fiercely on a place he had never been – The Burrow, in Ottery-St-Catchpole.

\- xxx –

Draco and Teddy landed awkwardly outside the wooden gate of the Burrow with a loud crack of inexpert apparition, causing the garden full of redheads to look up in alarm. Molly was magically hanging out bedsheets on the long washing line, whilst Arthur and Percy were sat on a wooden bench, looking to be having an in-depth and serious conversation.

"Malfoy! What the bloody hell is _that_ slimy git doing here?" muttered Ron under his breath, getting up from the grass where he was sitting with Keah kicking her little legs around on a soft blanket, chatting with Harry who was now home for the summer; his Quidditch Season finished and both young men ready to start their Auror training the following month.

"He's got Teddy with him!" Harry exclaimed, also getting to his feet and walking towards the gate.

Teddy became most excited at the sight of his godfather, squirming in Draco's arms and holding out his chubby hands for Harry.

"Flah! Flahhh!"

Ron opened the gate to admit Draco, and he passed Teddy, hair still a vibrant shade of crimson, over to Harry.

"The red's a bit of change," Harry remarked, affectionately twisting a lock of his godson's hair, "Teddy usually prefers blue."

"I think he fancied a change today. Perhaps considering where we were coming, he thought red was a popular choice."

Draco looked around the ramshackle grounds of the Burrow with a sneer, and Ron's face creased in anger.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

"I've come to see Granger."

"What? Why would you be looking for Hermione?"

"I need to do her a favour."

"I don't think she'd be interested in any of the favours _you_ might be willing to offer her, Malfoy," Ron spat, turning and heading back towards his tiny daughter, safe on her blanket.

Harry looked between the blonde and the redhead, the baby on the ground and then at the small boy in his arms. Did they really want to continue this for another generation?

"Come in, Draco. Come and sit with us."

He turned and walked towards Ron, who was looking at him in annoyance. They all sat down around the blanket, and Draco's eyes instantly fixed on the tiny figure of Keah Weasley, kicking around bare-legged in the warm weather and looking for all the world her father's daughter.

"Yours, Weasley?"

"Yeah, she's mine."

"Who's the mother, then?"

"Her mother died giving birth to her."

Draco's face paled into an expression of genuine shock and sympathy.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Genuinely, Weasley, that's really shit."

Ron's face relaxed somewhat and he nodded slowly, beginning to stroke the baby's pale little arm, enjoying the feel of her smooth skin under his fingertips.

"What's her name?"

"Keah. Keah Molly Weasley."

"I bet your mum likes that."

"Yeah. Yeah she does. She loves Keah. She's been ... really great with her. You looking after Teddy, then?"

"I am. I have him all weekend, giving Aunt Dromeda a break, you know?"

Harry looked between the two wizards; one his best friend in the world, the other his sworn enemy since the first day of Hogwarts at eleven, forming an unspoken truce over the heads of two babies who needed their caregivers to be adults.

"So, Draco," Harry began, "what do you want with Hermione?"

"Is she here?"

"She's not. She's moved to her own place now. I'm using the room she had here."

"Can you take me to her house?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because she's having a bad time with her ... _boyfriend_ ," Draco replied, shuddering at the word used in relation to _Snape_. "I know him. I can help her. They need to talk some things throught. They, or more accurately, _he_ , is utterly crap at relationships. I think they need someone to cast a bit of a metaphorical _Rennervate_."

"How would _you_ know her boyfriend?" Harry asked, suspiciously, "She's never told us who he is."

Draco privately thought that Granger had been incredibly sensible not to do so, considering whom she had been sleeping with. Urgh ... there was that shudder again. Granger shagging the greasy Professor Snape, it was really not a great visual image. He decided to play his trump card, knowing how insanely nosey both the two Gryffindors were.

"If you take me to her, you'll be able to find out who it is," he smirked, "and trust me boys, you're going to _want_ to know."

Always the consummate Slytherin.

\- xxx –

The three wizards, one toddler and one baby crowded around the fireplace in the kitchen of the Burrow, having run the gauntlet of Arthur, Molly and Percy to get in there undisturbed. Harry stuck his head in the fire and floo-called to Hermione, who took a while to answer.

She had been in the kitchen, making a disaster of frying up a simple omelette when she heard Harry's voice shouting at her from the fire. She wiped her hands on a tea-towel and hurried into the living room.

"What?" she snapped, impatiently.

"Hermione! Listen, this is a bit weird, but can we visit? Me and Ron, and Keah, and we've got Teddy here too. Oh, and er ... and Draco. He wants to see you. Says you'll know why."

Hermione felt her stomach zoom up into her throat so quickly she almost choked on it. Draco undoubtedly had news of Severus, which she wanted, so very badly.

"I'll tell you what, Harry, if you agree to rescue the mess I've made in the kitchen so I can eat, you can bring as many people as you want through."

"That's a deal. Open up."

Hermione opened the Floo connection, and Harry came tumbling through first, Teddy clamped tightly to his chest and laughing as he spun through the green flames. Ron followed him, cradling Keah against his chest and attempting to keep the worst of the ash from falling on her face. To her credit, the tiny baby seemed quite unperturbed, magical babies grew up with forms of transport such as Floo and apparition; they were all quite used to it. Finally Draco tumbled through, stepping elegantly over the grate as only a Malfoy could do. He met her eyes instantly, and a moment of quiet comprehension passed between them.

Harry set Teddy down on the floor and went straight to the kitchen, as he'd agreed, laughing at the mess that Hermione had made over such an easy dish.

"Don't laugh, Harry, just fix it so I can eat. I am quite literally starving to death."

She attempted to give Teddy a cuddle which he squeezed away from, giggling madly, and then planted a kiss on Keah's fluffy, sweet-smelling head before pecking Ron on the cheek in greeting. She walked over to Draco.

"Granger."

"Draco."

"Do you know why I want to talk to you?"

"I think I can guess. But whatever you want to say can wait until I've eaten my omelette. Seriously, I'm so hungry I could eat _you_."

"That's one the best ideas you've ever had, Granger," he smirked, quirking his eyebrows wolfishly.

"Watch it, Malfoy," Ron warned, "Don't make me sorry I brought you here."

Draco held his hands up in mock surrender and retired to the large sofa that lay in front of the large window that ran the width of the back of the cottage.

"Nice place you've got here," he commented, looking around at the room and the view.

Hermione was by now sitting at the breakfast bar, shovelling down mouthfuls of too-hot omelette that Harry had rescued in a trice and was now clearing up the mess in the small kitchenette, and nodded in response, unable and unwilling to formulate a coherent answer.

After she had eaten and Harry had returned the kitchen to its original state, the four of them were seated in various places on the sofa and on floor cushions, looking to Draco to explain the reason for his visit. Hermione had transfigured the single bed in the little room into a cot so that Ron could put Keah down for a nap, and Teddy had zonked out and was snoring softly spread across half the sofa, a snuggly blanket pulled lightly over him.

"Do you want to talk privately, Granger?" Draco asked.

Hermione inhaled deeply and sighed the breath out.

"I don't think so. It's about time Harry and Ron knew the truth, I suppose."

Draco could have sworn that Potter and Weasley's ears literally _pricked up_ at the thought of a juicy bit of gossip.

"He misses you, Granger. He won't, or can't, or doesn't know how to, actually say it, but he does."

Hermione felt a familiar flutter deep in her gut. Damn Severus for always having that effect on her!

"He hurt me very badly, Draco. He puts my head in a total spin so that I don't know what on earth he wants from me."

"I think he knows that. Look, he is completely shit at this. Help him, will you?"

Harry and Ron's heads were swinging between the two of them like two spectators at a muggle tennis match.

"I've spent months trying to do just that! I've done nothing _but_ help him."

"And looked what you've achieved with that help. He has totally turned his life around. I'm pretty sure that's your influence."

Hermione pinked a little with pride, she couldn't help it; she thrived on praise just like a dippy house-elf, constantly seeking approval and reassurance of a job well done, she was relentless about it. _Just like Severus_ , she suddenly thought. Constantly needing reassurance. Constantly.

Draco watched the workings of her mind through her expressive face. He had learned a little Legilimency and Occlumency from Aunt Bella during the year he was branded with the Dark Mark, but not enough to allow him into Granger's head.

"It doesn't matter. Apart from the fact he made it very clear he wanted to break up, he's seeing Andromeda now, I saw them."

"Aunt Dromeda?" Draco pulled a confused and slightly nauseous face. "They had lunch yesterday and that's as far as it went, much to my Aunt's annoyance. I don't think he had a lot of choice, from what I can see she pretty much dragged him into the ministry atrium brasserie after the Wizengamot hearing and foisted food upon him."

Hermione gave a watery smile at the thought of anyone trying to _force_ Severus to do anything. Draco picked up on her resistance fading like the cunning snake he was.

"Granger. Quite frankly I'm appalled I'm about to ask this, but do you love him?"

The three young wizards all audibly held their breath. If it hadn't been such a serious question Hermione would have creased up laughing at them, they looked and sounded so stupid.

"I think perhaps I do. Despite everything."

"Oh bloody Merlin, _Who_!" Ron practically shouted.

"Put us out of our misery, Hermione," Harry added, more mildly but no less frustrated.

She went for broke.

"Severus."

"Severus?" Ron blundered in straight away. "Severus _who_? I don't know a Severus from school. The only Severus I know is bloody _Snape_ , and you're obviously not seeing _him_."

Draco sat back on the sofa, grinning broadly and thoroughly enjoying the scene playing out before him. Honestly, it was like he'd snuck into the Gryffindor common room under an invisibility cloak. He was completely entertained by the interactions between the three of them, and began wondering if he could summon some muggle popcorn before it was over.

Harry was more thoughtful, approaching the conundrum from another angle.

"How old is Andromeda, Draco? She's Teddy's grandmother so she's at least forty, if not more ..." he trailed off.

Draco nodded and gave a tight-lipped smirk, waiting for Potter's brain to catch up. Definitely not the brightest; _Chosen One_ or not.

"Hermione," Harry turned to his friend, "The night after Ron's birthday party. When we were all sitting at breakfast, trying to hold on to our stomachs. Ron told us about a dream he'd had whilst drunk out of his head during the night."

"That wasn't a dream, Harry," Hermione replied, quietly, her brown eyes full of emotion, willing him to understand.

Harry's green eyes widened behind his glasses.

"Really?" he said, softly.

"Really."

"And you love him?"

"I do. I have no idea what's going to happen with us, but yes, I do."

"Wow."

"I know."

Harry reached for Hermione's hands and clutched them in his own, wordlessly giving her his full support.

"Will someone tell me what the bloody hell is going on?" Ron blurted, annoyed at being the last one to figure things out.

"Severus Snape, Ron," Harry turned and told him. "She's in love with Snape. And it seems he might be in love with her too, right, Malfoy?"

"Right, Potter."

Ron's face contorted into the kind of grimace that he might pull if Keah presented him with the most unpleasant sort of overflowing nappy.

"Well," he answered, after a time, "Well I think that's bloody disgusting. He's so _old_ , Hermione!"

"Is that the best you have, Ronald?" she replied, coolly, arching an eyebrow at him.

Her calmness took the wind out of his sails, and his shoulders dropped in resignation.

"Yes," he conceded. "Yes, that's all I've got."

Hermione crawled across the carpet on her knees, closing the distance between them and giving Ron a tight hug, which he returned, before sitting next to him and leaning against the sofa where Draco sat.

"Gross, Hermione," he muttered, "Your taste in wizards is _appalling_. Just tell me you haven't _slept_ with him."

Harry and Draco looked at each other and roared with long-restrained laughter at Ron's nauseated face, which startled Teddy awake.

Draco reached over and pulled Teddy on to his lap, shushing him in an uncommonly tender, soothing way that surprised the other three at his gentleness towards the small toddler.

"To be honest, Weasley, I try not to think about _that_ either. Not if I want to hold on to my lunch."

He winked at his former enemies, and planted kisses on Teddy's shocking scarlet hair, the ghost of a smile clearly visible on his face.


	48. Chapter 48

**Chapter 48**

After everyone had recovered their stomachs enough to behave normally again, Ron had taken Keah home (no doubt so his mother could take a turn with the baby and he could sneak off for a nap) whilst Harry and Draco had opted to stay at the cottage with Hermione. They had stomped down the shallow cliff path to the beach in the good summer weather, all walking at a snail's pace to match Teddy's toddler steps. Eating hot chips on the sandy beach followed by taking Teddy for his first paddle in the sea had put all of them in a good mood, and Hermione was amazed by Draco's good nature and general playfulness around the child. The four of them were actually having a great time.

She had cast a covert charm to stop the sand sticking to Teddy's hands so that he wasn't tempted to start licking grains of it from his fingers, and he toddled around happily with bare feet, not caring if he stumbled and fell on the soft, damp sand.

Hermione sat down on the grassy edge of the beach to watch them, both Harry and Draco cavorting loudly with the shrieking toddler, chasing him, swooping him up in the air, and running in and out of the shallows of the water, allowing themselves to get "caught" by the incoming waves for Teddy's amusement. It wasn't long before all three of them were soaking wet, Teddy's sodden nappy hanging down to his knees.

Harry had picked up the boy, carrying him gently back up the cliff path to the cottage, where Draco rummaged in the changing bag for a clean nappy and they made an interesting double-act changing Teddy between them, Harry abusing Draco's _manly_ black leatherchanging bag, and Draco admitting he had transfigured the outside, it was actually festooned with a print of cheery dragons.

Harry kept Teddy occupied and still long enough for Draco to effect the nappy change, by kneeling next to him on the floor and making rude noises with his tongue. It was all rather sweet, and Hermione was again struck by how very _different_ Draco Malfoy was acting. Was it just being the babysitter that was bringing out this relaxed, playful side, or could he be actually _enjoying_ the company of Harry and herself?

Once Teddy was safely ensconced in a clean nappy, dry clothes, he was let free to roam the room again, while Harry and Draco shot cursory drying spells at their own clothes to remove the worst of the water. Harry sat back on his heels and regarded his former enemy as he packed the dirties away in the changing bag.

"So, Malfoy. Have you been as decent as this all along and just _acting_ like an arsehole throughout school, or is this a new personality?"

Ah. So Harry was thinking along the same lines as she had been. Draco eyed him with a withering look.

"I should think, _Potter_ , that given the abject mess I've made of my life so far, that a change of outlook was probably called for, don't you agree?"

"I totally agree. It's just surprising," Harry pushed his glasses further up his nose and ran an absent-minded hand through his unkempt hair, "I can't ever remember enjoying an afternoon in your company before."

Draco shot him a sarcastic smile.

"It _can_ happen, you know."

"Clearly." Harry rolled his eyes, mockingly.

"So, Potter, what are you doing with the rest of your life now?"

"Me and Ron are starting the Ministry Auror training programme next month."

"Sounds good," Draco gave a non-committal shrug.

"You?"

"I'm working with Snape. He's left Hogwarts and set up on his own brewing potions. I've been hired as his apprentice."

"You're a braver man than me."

"I'm ok, he _likes_ me. That's why Granger here suggested me to him."

Harry turned on Hermione in surprise.

"You did that?"

"I did. Severus needed an assistant, an exemplary brewer, and with an apprenticeship he will make Draco as skilled as he. I also thought that Draco might appreciate the hand of friendship."

She sneaked Draco a wink.

"You're a good sort, Granger. I know we've all been through a lot together ..."

"It's in the past," Harry cut him off mid-sentence, "I don't want to go back there. I fought bloody hard for the rest of my life and I intend to enjoy it, and not waste another second looking behind me."

"That's an admirable sentiment, Harry," Hermione replied.

"Sounds fucking brilliant to me," Draco muttered, loudly.

They looked at each for a moment in silence, before Draco seemed to come back to himself and declared that it was time to get Teddy home. Hermione helped him check that he had all the baby's things, although it was inevitable something would get left behind, such a mess had been made. They packed everything into the transfigured changing back before Draco lifted Teddy astride his hip, allowing him to kiss both Harry and Hermione goodbye.

Hermione also placed a kiss on Draco's cheek and a gentle hand on his back, much to the blond wizard's surprise.

"Goodbye, Draco. I really appreciate you having the courage to meet Ron and Harry in the lion's den in order to find me. I will think about what you've told me, I promise."

He gave her a slightly sad smile in return, and then turned to Harry, as if unsure how to bid him farewell.

Harry held out his hand.

"See you, Malfoy."

Draco took it and held it, not really making any effort to shake it.

"See you, Potter."

He turned to the fireplace, throwing in the Floo powder and calling out _Malfoy Manor_ , before the flames glowed green and both he and Teddy were gone, twisting and turning through the connection and out of sight.

\- xxx –

Hermione and Harry were sitting in the cottage garden in the rather expensive but insanely comfortable wooden double swing-seat she had treated herself too, sinking into the soft cushions and rocking themselves gently with their feet on the grass as the sun dimmed to the burnt orange of a summer evening.

Both had cold bottles of butterbeer that Hermione had stocked up on in Diagon Alley in a burst of enthusiasm to make sure she had a well-supplied kitchen, and a pile of muggle crisps in a bowl between them.

"We know how to live," Harry joked, leaning his head back against the cushions as he shovelled a handful into his mouth, spraying crisp crumbs unattractively all over the front of his top.

"We do indeed," she smiled, taking a delicate sip of her butterbeer and wondering how to broach the question with her friend that she wanted to ask.

"Ginny's gone," he stated, simply, mouth still half-full of crisps.

 _Bingo_. He'd brought the subject up himself.

"I thought she might have, since she wasn't with you today. Holyhead Harpies she's playing for, isn't it?"

He nodded.

"A year's unconditional contract. She really impressed them when she tried out."

"I don't doubt that. I don't know much about Quidditch but I know Ginny is an exceptional flyer."

"That she is," Harry said, vaguely nodding, "That she is."

"And ... how are the two of you?"

Harry turned to her, his clear green eyes surprisingly full of confusion and pain.

" _We're_ not. At least, I don't think we are. It's just ... _I'm_ not ... I mean, _she's_ not ..." he waved his hands around randomly, as if searching for the right words to pluck out of the air.

"You're arguing?"

"Not even that. We're just ... _not_. I mean, it was always going to be hard with Gin back at Hogwarts and me away so much the last year, but ... even the occasional time we've had alone, we're just ... not."

"You're going to have to help me, Harry. You're not really making very much sense."

He took a deep breath, as if he was trying to release a very great secret that was buried so deep it needed effort to bring it to the surface.

"I don't fancy her. And she doesn't fancy me either. There's no ..."

"Spark? Chemistry? Attraction?"

"All of the above," he sighed with relief, "I like her, I even _love_ her, but as a friend, not as anything more. And I'm pretty sure the feeling is mutual."

"Like I love Ronald," she murmured, "I love him deeply and would protect him with my life, like we all did for each other last year, but I don't love him romantically."

"No. You save _that_ kind of love for Professor Snape," Harry teased, taking a large slurp of his butterbeer with a cheeky grin.

"If you tease me, I'll use a sticking charm to fasten you to the seat while I tell you every in-depth detail of our sex life," she retorted, calmly.

He held up his hands.

"Mercy, please no. Back to your original comment. Yes, I think I love Ginny how you love Ron. I just don't want to ... bump uglies with her."

Hermione laughed at his turn of phrase, thinking he must have picked it up in changing room banter whilst travelling with the Wasps all season.

"Bump uglies?" she grinned, "So tell me, Harry, is there anyone you _do_ want to _bump uglies_ with?"

To her surprise, he blushed scarlet, clearly visible even in the dying light of the evening.

"Harry?"

"I need to tell you something. Something I've not even told Ron."

Hermione nodded, turning to face him completely, her legs crossed on the swing seat, assuring him bodily of her full attention. He took a deep breath.

"I think I might be gay. In fact, strike that, I _know_ I am gay."

She took a sip of her butterbeer, and then a longer swig, trying to formulate an answer.

"What makes you think that?"

"It's been more of a gradual realisation. At first I thought it was just because I was spending a lot of time with all the wizards on my team, not being around Ginny, and whilst most of them went out shagging, I made the excuse to myself that I wasn't because I was being faithful.

And then the few times I saw Gin, on the visits and stuff, things just weren't the same. There wasn't the ... _desperation_ that we had for each other last year. And I started thinking that we might only have been feeling like that because of the likelihood of all our imminent deaths."

"I can understand that," she interjected, softly. "Leaping on Ron during the heat of the final battle and shoving my tongue down his throat wasn't my finest hour. I agree with you I think it was desperation and fear, we were all running for our lives."

"I've ... _um_ ... had a brief relationship while I was away," he coughed, awkwardly, "and it kind of made my mind up, even though it didn't work out."

"You did? Tell me about him," she urged her friend, with what she hoped was an encouraging look upon her face.

"His name is Ivan. He came over on a month's transfer from a Moscow quidditch team. He asked me out for a drink, and he was really good to talk to, explaining how one gay man can often spot another, and listening to me pour out all my woes about what being gay might mean. Eventually I decided to stop stressing and just enjoy it. And I did. I'm not sure Ivan did – I think I drove him mad with my whining, but he's put me in a better place – a place where I know who I am and what I want from life."

"And what is it that you want from life, young Mr Potter?" she smiled.

"Well, that's the thing. If you'd asked me that earlier I'd have said I was getting comfortable with my sexuality, and looking, but not desperate for, a fun, hassle-free relationship with a steady wizard who knows his own mind and shares my outlook on life."

Hermione had a sudden feeling that she knew where this was headed, and tentatively asked her final question.

"So, that was earlier today. And if I asked you now, what would you tell me you wanted?"

He looked at her, his beautiful, expressive green eyes as familiar to her as her own.

"I want Draco Malfoy," he replied, sinking his head forward into his hands, where his elbows rested upon his knees, "Malfoy. For _fucks sake_."

\- xxx –

Severus and Draco were working side by side in the barn, several cauldrons currently in different stages of brewing, and Draco's student books spread out across the teaching bench. They had obtained over a dozen new contracts in the last fortnight, and these were the initial orders from various apothecaries, mostly simple remedies that wizarding families kept in their stores to treat minor ailments, plus they had received a huge order from St Mungo's based on the quotation that Hermione had prepared for their potions department.

Severus wasn't naive enough to think St Mungo's had simply turned their whole ordering facility over to him, the amount of potions the hospital must get through was enormous, but an order of this size showed good faith, and he was eager to present them with a speedy delivery of their order, perfectly brewed, so that they would return and order from him again.

At the present time, he was attempting to teach Draco, brew a myriad potions, complete paperwork, pack and deliver the orders and send the invoice parchments all at the same time. Hermione had been right when she'd said he would need assistants almost straight away.

A loud and disgruntled squawk from the owlery made them both look up, and Severus lifted his chin in the direction of his apprentice to indicate that Draco should go and check the source of the discontent. Draco wiped his hands on his brewing apron and opened the door to the owlery, a flurry of brown feathers hitting him in the face as he stepped inside, much to Severus' amusement.

"Let it go! Let it go, you pain in the bloody arse bird, you! Get the fuck off!"

Another affronted screech was heard, much louder this time as the door was open, and Draco came back into the lab clutching a scroll that he handed to Severus, shaking his head.

"Apparently Hannibal is now taking exception to unfamiliar post owls delivering mail, rather than just shitting on the letters themselves," he said, by way of explanation. "That poor owl will probably never deliver here again after I released him from Hannibal's claws."

"Maybe I remind you," Severus drawled, "that it was _you_ whom saw fit to purchase such a miserable bastard of an owl."

"I thought you might like him, he reminded me of you," Draco muttered.

"No one likes _me_ , Draco. Why on earth should my owl counterpart be any more prepossessing?"

"Fair point."

"Nonetheless, I congratulate you on freeing the delivery owl, and retrieving at least one piece of post that isn't covered in owl shit."

He tapped the scroll lightly on his temple, indicating that he was going to retire to the new sofa to read the letter. They had installed it on the opposite side of the workroom, a black leather affair with a heavy wooden chest in front to serve as a coffee table. It was here that they ate, keeping Severus' home upstairs private.

He unrolled the parchment, which was directed in an unfamiliar hand.

 _Dear Professor Snape_

 _You don't know me, my name is Vera Cruddington, and I am the partner of Poppy Pomfrey, the Hogwarts medi-witch? Poppy tells me the two of you are very good friends._

 _Now, she has asked me to write to you as she isn't feeling too well at the moment, she caught dragon pox just as the summer started, and whilst we don't think it's too serious, she's in quite a bit of discomfort from the itching._

 _Poppy tells me that you may have a remedy for pox itching that you are currently working on? She says she doesn't mind if it's not fully tested yet, but she wants to use it!_

 _You know how determined she can be when she gets an idea in her head._

 _Anyway, I hope that you will be able to pop over and see her and bring whatever potion or cream it is she thinks you might have? Our Floo address in Surrey is at the top of this parchment. We live in a muggle neighbourhood so Floo is a better choice than apparating here._

 _Yours sincerely_

 _Vera Cruddington_

He smirked to himself as he read Vera Cruddington's letter. He could quite imagine Vera as a small, quiet woman of mediocre brain, constantly hen-pecked by the human tornado that was Poppy Pomfrey. No wonder their relationship survived Poppy living at Hogwarts, Vera was no doubt glad of the peace and quiet.

He went over to a cupboard and pulled out one of his research notebooks, she was correct, he had been working on a medicated anti-itching cream for dragon pox, and whilst it hadn't received full testing, (that honour went only to the Advanced Wolfsbane tested by St Mungo's) he knew it worked and would likely relieve Poppy's symptoms.

It would only take him an hour to mix up, as a cream there was no brewing involved, and he would visit Poppy and Vera that evening. If truth be told he'd like to see her, he always came away from her feeling better, even if he hadn't admitted it in the past. He was looking forward to tormenting her that the dragon had now caught dragon pox. She'd appreciate that.

\- xxx –

Severus knew he had been wildly mistaken as soon as he crossed the grate into Poppy and Vera's neat living room. The house had a vile, infected smell to it, which since the house was otherwise clean and tidy, he could only presume was the stench of advanced dragon pox.

Vera was not the small hen-pecked witch he had imagined, but a sturdy, capable bear of a woman with a hand-span that could have rivalled Hagrid's. Her round face was etched with worry as she ushered Severus upstairs without a word, and when they reached the landing, lined with several plain white wood doors, stood before the first of them with her hand on the brass doorknob, and turned to him.

"I didn't want to say too much in the letter. Didn't want to worry you," she whispered, before opening the door.

As they entered the room, the fetid stench was almost overpowering. Severus steeled himself, remembering all the times that Poppy had attended to him when his internal organs had been practically wrenched from his body, his skin irreparably flayed. He was quite certain that the Hogwarts Medi-Witch hadn't vomited all over _him_ in repulsion; he must afford her the same courtesy.

He walked over to the bed where his friend lay, covered in dragon pox lesions, and sat down. He raised his usual eyebrow at her.

"I think, Madam, that this is a little more than just a few itchy spots, don't you agree?"

Her sore mouth twitched with a smile.

"It has come on quickly, Severus. A couple of days ago I was fine."

"Fine?"

"Alright, not fine. But considerably better than this."

He turned to Vera, standing uncertainly by the open door.

"Has she been seen by a Healer?"

"She has. Every day St Mungo's sends a visiting Healer to check her progress and dress her wounds. She refuses to be admitted, though."

"Well, that doesn't surprise me. You always did make the most terrible patient, didn't you, Poppy?"

"Look who's talking," she shot back, "You are the most miserable, ungrateful bastard that ever set foot in my infirmary."

"It is good to see the pox has not yet affected your brain, or your filthy tongue."

They both smiled at each other, and it occurred to Severus that he had been brought here under false pretences. His useless little itching cream would do no good for Poppy; her skin was almost completely covered. No doubt she was in the advanced stages of dragon pox, and the gravelly tone to her voice suggested that her throat was already partially covered in infected lesions. _This is not a sickbed visit_ , he thought, as his heart dropped from his chest into the pit of his stomach, _this is a deathbed attendance_. As a highly experienced medi-witch and Healing practitioner, Poppy would tragically already know this.

He looked up and met her eyes, her kind face covered so wickedly with the red, scaled lesions of the disease. She gave a slow nod, as if she understood what he had just been thinking.

"Is your throat affected?"

"It is."

"I am so sorry, Poppy."

"Don't be. I am a very old woman, that's why I haven't been able to fight this off. Now, make sure you don't touch me; I don't want you infected too. I haven't allowed Vera to touch me either, skin to skin contact passes the pox, we all know that."

"What can I do for you?" he asked her, feeling worse than useless.

"Have you made things right with your young lady?"

"I beg your pardon, Poppy, but you cannot possibly wish to discuss my love life in your current position."

"On the contrary, Severus, that is exactly what I wish to discuss. My own life is all in order. Vera and I have made plans for whoever went first; we have been blessed to have spent the last half a century with each other. I can die happy knowing that you, my dear boy, have finally found the happiness you so deserve."

Severus was so humbled by her words, by her actions, that he didn't even bother to play his old _I don't deserve it_ refrain. It just seemed old and tedious now. Poppy felt he was worth something, she always had done. He just never appreciated it until now. He really was an arsehole of the highest order.

Poppy began to cough, and he cringed as it wracked her body, curling her over with the effort. She cleared her throat with some difficulty, and began.

"Severus. I have told you many a time what I want for you. A life, a _real life_ where you can love, and receive love in return. A family to call your own. A chance to right not only those wrongs you have done, but also the wrongs that were done _to_ you. I am telling you now, for the last time, that if you continue to push Hermione away through your own hurt pride, you will destroy not only your own chance of happiness, but hers also."

She took a deep breath, struggling with the effort, but Severus knew she would not let go until she had said her piece. No doubt Vera knew that too, standing there quietly, her eyes bloated with unshed tears.

"If I had conjured her myself, I could not have wished for a more perfect companion for you. Now stop _fucking it up_ , you stupid boy. My precious boy. You wonderful, irritating, handsome, rude, _misunderstood_ man. Go to the one who has the power to understand you, yet still love you, and never let her go again."

Severus felt his heart break, oddly not with sadness, but instead with love and admiration for this remarkable woman.

"You have been more of a mother to me, than my own ever was," he admitted, wishing he could embrace her.

"Not a mother," she shot back, weakly, "More like a favourite aunt with a stupendously annoying nephew."

He bequeathed her a genuine smile, broad and strong, that spread across his face, and nodded.

Poppy smiled in return before closing her eyes, and she seemed to sink back a little into the pillow. Vera approached the bed and rested her hand on Severus' shoulder. Despite his hatred of touch, and having never met this huge woman before, he did not feel the need to shrug her off. They both instinctively knew the other needed the touch – the comforter and the comforted.

They both watched Poppy's chest rise and fall under the thin sheet, the spaces between breaths growing longer, until the next one simply did not come.

He rose to his feet and embraced Vera, before stepping across the room and throwing open the window, to allow the beautiful soul of his dearest friend to fly free.


	49. Chapter 49

**Chapter 49**

Seated between Ron and Harry, each holding one of her hands, Hermione looked around the Hogwarts grounds, littered with rays of sunlight sneaking their way through the gaps of the trees branches overhead. Hundreds of chairs had been conjured for the students and former students, staff and former staff, and parents who had come to mourn the death of Madam Pomfrey.

Whilst not a member of the teaching staff, there was not a student past or present who had not had cause to visit Pomfrey in the infirmary for one reason or another during their time at school. That was undoubtedly why Professor McGonagall's invitation to the memorial service had received such a wide response, even during the summer holidays when many families were likely to be away on holiday or involved with their own plans during the long weeks when they had their children home from school.

She was wearing a knee length summer dress which she had transfigured a respectful black from its original floral, and a pair of matching flat pumps, but she still felt the rising heat of the day from beneath the forest canopy above them. Her palms, encased in each of her best friends', were beginning to get a little slick and sweaty, but she wasn't sure that was entirely due to the temperature.

From their seats halfway down the makeshift outdoor auditorium she could see Severus sitting straight and upright in the front row, Draco Malfoy next to him and thankfully no sign of Andromeda Tonks, whom she had figured out, once she began to think clearly again after the shock, was the witch that had accompanied him to the Wizengamot hearing, due to her stunning resemblance to her sister, the odious Bellatrix Lestrange.

The two Slytherin wizards sat alone, there were empty seats to both sides of them, and for some reason this made her feel sad, that these men were still unaccepted due to the marks they both bore. She was also struggling with an irrepressible urge to run up to him and throw herself onto his lap and into his arms, to show the hundreds of people present how worthy of love he was, how wrong they were not to take the opportunity to sit next to him.

A huge woman with a ruddy red face and a bouffant of curly hair that looked as if she were wearing a brown pygmy puff as a hat, walked down the central aisle with McGonagall, dwarfing the tall Scotswoman, headed for the front and sat down next to Severus without hesitation. She had met his eye with an understanding look, although Hermione could not see his response, since he had his back to her.

The Headmistress stood at the front at an ornate lectern, draped with crimson red poppies. She explained that this was to be a memorial service, since a private funeral had already been held for the medi-witch where she had been lain to rest. She went on to speak about the many years of long service that Madam Pomfrey had given to Hogwarts, her non-partisan care for all students, _and staff_ , she had added with a wink, and a ripple of gentle laughter at this could be heard from the assembled professors.

The huge woman, who it transpired was called Vera Cruddington, Madam Pomfrey's long-term partner, stood up and gave a eulogy, her red face even more flushed by the sincerity in her words. When she finished and returned to her seat, to Hermione's great surprise Severus rose from his chair, embraced Vera, and moved to the flowered lectern. He was clad head to foot in his usual black, his raven hair glossy and just skimming his shoulders. She could not help inappropriately thinking how handsome he was, his darkness contrasting starkly against the blood-red of the poppies in a truly beautiful way.

"It has fallen to me to close this memorial service," he began, his deep voice rumbling low with emotion, evoking a powerful longing deep in her gut.

"There is not much I can say that has not already been said, aside from to concur that Madam Poppy Pomfrey was a tireless worker, a loving partner, and a fierce protector of those in need ... whether or not she approved of the actions that had landed them in her care. I shall personally miss this woman more deeply than I could ever have imagined, and shall remain proud to count her as a very dear friend. Would you all kindly raise your wands."

He lifted his own ebony wand into the air, a small beam of pink light, like a paler shade to the poppies, erupting from the end. He was joined, slowly, by the rest of the people congregated, and like a tiny pebble causing a ripple effect when skimmed across the surface of a millpond; everyone raised their own wand in the air, making a huge ball of pink light that reflected through the canopy of branches above.

With her arm lifted high in the air, Hermione looked across at Severus, her eyes searching for and meeting his own. The volcanic depths were full of sorrow, of regret, of love. She gave him a single nod, letting him know his words were enough, he had done well. He gave a slight bob of his head in return, just enough to connect them, just enough to count for their first exchange in weeks.

Severus gazed out across the assembly, seeking out the eyes of the only one who mattered. She was utterly dignified as she solemnly lifted her wand at his call to raise, as well as looking entirely beautiful clad all in black, her curls bouncing softly on her shoulders and down her back. He longed to tangle his hands in them, to pull her head towards him and kiss her, to never let her go again.

\- xxx –

The chairs had been magically cleared away; some people having already departed, walking down to the boar-topped gates on the Hogwarts boundary and apparated home or wandered into Hogsmeade village for a drink, whilst others were stood loitering in small clusters chatting and catching-up with long-forgotten acquaintances.

Ron had been distracted by a girl from Fred and George's school year whom he was clearly trying to impress with his tales of professional quidditch, single fatherhood and his imminent entry into the auror training programme. Harry and Hermione shook their heads in amused resignation; honestly, the incorrigible Ronald Bilius Weasley would never change his spots.

"So, Granger, when can Potter and I next come and play on your beach?"

She turned around to see Draco standing behind them, hands in his pockets, his slightly hopeful smile betraying a confidence she wasn't entirely sure he felt.

"Anytime you want, Draco. If you and Harry are wanting to come and play at the seaside, please feel free to visit any time, the pair of you," she smiled back, feeling Harry aiming a discreet but sharp kick to her foot.

"You might want to check with me before booking holidays for us together, Malfoy," Harry cut in, neatly, with a slight tease to his voice that Hermione had not heard before, and after his revelation the previous weekend, she now identified as _flirting_. She wondered how Draco would take it, as to her knowledge, he was straight and had been seen with girlfriends whilst at school.

"Pack your trunk, Potter. We need to take Teddy for a weekend at the beach. He spends too much time cramped up with Aunt Dromeda, bored out of his tiny skull."

Well. She hadn't been expecting _that_ response. The conversation moved to verbal sparring between the two of them, and she gradually slunk backwards, her input being no longer required, until she found herself standing alone.

"Hermione."

 _That_ was what she wanted and _needed_ to hear. Her name uttered in velvet tones that dripped over her auditory nerves like melting chocolate. A voice that suggested the promise of a hundred nights spent in sexual ecstasy, from the mouth that caressed her body like a supplicant revering a goddess, which contained the tongue that set fire to her every nerve as it slithered around her like a flickering snake.

She turned around, quite unnerved at standing this close to _him_ for the first time in so very long.

"Severus," she breathed.

He looked down at her, his face expressionless but his eyes betraying the burning black fire behind his neutral gaze.

"Would you do me the honour of granting me with an audience? Not here," he added quickly, glancing around at the assembled guests, milling around the school grounds.

"I am going home to the cottage shortly."

" _Home_ to the cottage?"

"I live there now. I moved out of the Burrow some time ago."

He was silent as he processed this information.

"May I visit you there? Will you allow it?"

"I will, Severus. I will allow it."

"I have some matters to attend to here first. But I will be with you as soon as I possibly can."

She nodded.

"Until then."

"Until then, Hermione."

He looked at her as if he would like to swallow her whole, in one gulp. She flushed from her face to the soles of her feet. She would probably let him.

\- xxx –

Back at Cliffside Cottage, she opted to sit in the garden for a while on her swing-seat, needing the cool breeze that was blowing in from the sea to calm her frazzled nerves. The memorial service had been beautiful, solemn and appropriate, and whilst she hadn't really known Madam Pomfrey on a personal level, she respected her skill in the field of Healing.

Having more of an emotional reaction to the sight of her ex-boyfriend than for the memory of the deceased was rather inappropriate, but she could no more stop it than if she stood in front of a moving Hogwarts Express.

Severus was able to arouse myriad feelings within her, from anger at how he had treated her, through sorrow at his apparent social outcast status, towards love for every inch of his tortured soul and ending up in an intense sexual desire to have him buried deep inside her. She didn't know which feeling was supposed to be the _correct_ one, and if there was one thing Hermione Granger hated, it was not having all the right answers.

She had been out with David Bergin the night after her success before the Wizengamot, and they'd had a really lovely evening in Diagon Alley, celebrating in a packed Leaky Cauldron with a fabulous pub dinner and lots of drinks. Tom, the old barman at the Leaky, had opened the large back room for dancing, and kept the music going on the old wireless, tuned to a wizarding music station. They had danced for what seemed like hours with many other witches and wizards, ending up in a set of slow dances, everyone sweaty both from energetic dancing and the heat in the room.

David had slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her close for a kiss, which she had allowed, even licking along his lips and sliding her hands up to clasp around his neck.

There was nothing inherently _wrong_ with the kiss, it just wasn't ... _right_.

When David cheekily slid a hand down to squeeze her arse, she reached behind her and pulled it up again to rest upon the small of her back, setting a clear boundary he was not to cross. He broke the kiss and looked at her questioningly.

"Too soon?"

"Too soon," she nodded, returning her hands to a dance position and resting her chin on his shoulder, so her mouth was out of the kissing zone.

As the night drew to a close, David had walked her to one of many apparition stops in Diagon Alley, thanking her for a lovely evening and asking if he could see her again. She had said yes, for the simple reason was that she couldn't think of a good reason to say no. She liked David, he was a good man and pleasant enough company, it wasn't _his_ fault he wasn't Severus Snape.

He had kissed her goodnight and it had developed into a heavy, open-mouth snog, where he kept his hands in a respectful place and pushed her no further than she wanted to go. It was all very nice, she thought, as she apparated back to the cottage.

A very nice kiss, a very nice evening, a very nice wizard.

The only problem was that she wasn't entirely sure that she wanted, or needed, _nice_.

\- xxx –

Severus stayed at Hogwarts after the memorial service to assist with any necessary clearing-up, and to make small talk with the colleagues he had left without a goodbye on the last day of term, which was slightly awkward and he was soundly berated by Minerva, who had finished with a resigned shake of her head.

"I don't know, Severus, you will never change, will you, you surly, unsociable wizard. I only hope that young witch of yours sees a better side of you than the rest of us are gifted with."

Other professors that were in earshot seemed visibly surprised to hear that _Snape_ was in a relationship, and raised their goblets of wine, which had been brought out by the house-elves after the guests had left, to his good health and successful future, as they would have done on his last day, had he not absconded.

At length, he took his leave and walked down to the gates and the apparition point. It was time to put things right. He swallowed hard, gathered his nerves, and twisted in to his apparition.

\- xxx –

Hermione was wiping the kitchen surfaces to burn off some nervous energy when there was a knock at the door. Severus was the only person who could apparate directly inside her wards, since he had been the one to set them, so she knew it was him. She put down the cloth and rinsed her hands quickly under the tap before heading to open the wooden door.

He stood on her doorstep, a vision draped in black, the setting sun making vivid orange, pink and red stripes behind him. She held on to the door with one hand and looked at him, his countenance as unreadable as that first night beside the Black Lake at Hogwarts.

"I have viewed the memory you kindly owled to me."

She nodded.

"Whilst it is by no means the biggest issue that we need to discuss, I concur that I was wrong to assume you were sleeping with Weasley, and that your version of events were indeed correct."

"I can imagine that seeing us through the window would have set your mind racing. If it had been _me_ watching _you_ , it would have broken my heart."

He lowered his head slowly and then up again, before continuing.

"I also owe you a sincere apology for my behaviour in the Potions classroom, the last time we were ... together. I took my pleasure from you and then treated you with cruelty and disrespect. You did not deserve that, particularly not from me, who has made so many mistakes myself."

"I enjoyed the classroom," she admitted, with the hint of a small smile, "Just not what followed afterwards."

"I am truly regretful, Hermione."

"I know."

He shifted awkwardly on the front step and folded his arms across his body, making no move to come inside, and she did not invite him.

"I believe our problems started with my inability to cope with a negative reaction to our relationship."

"They're not negative any more, Severus. In fact Draco took the trouble to find out where I was living now in order to personally visit me and tell me how miserable you were."

"He did?" Severus cocked an eyebrow in surprise.

"He did indeed. He spent the afternoon here, actually. I wouldn't say we were now best friends, but we certainly reached an understanding."

"I confess myself astonished."

" _Our relationship_ was astonishing. Before you oddly decided that at some point in the future I would certainly leave you, so you decided to ruin everything first."

Severus grimaced at her harsh words.

"Was. Was ... _was_ ," he repeated, sadly, " _Was_ astonishing. _Past tense_."

Hermione let go of the door that she was clutching in security and took a step towards him, placing both her hands on his crossed forearms over his chest, it was as if he was attempting to create a physical barrier in order to protect himself from emotional harm.

"It is not too late, Severus. That is, unless you are now seeing Andromeda Tonks, but I am hoping that is not the case, since you are here with me now on a Saturday evening."

He unfolded his arms and seized her small hands in his large ones, his long, pale fingers grasping hers and enveloping them, not missing the opportunity to touch her.

"She calls herself Andromeda Black now, and let me assure you without a shadow of doubt that I am not, nor ever have been, _seeing_ her. She peculiarly owled me a long while back attempting to gain a deeper acquaintance with me, to which I never replied, and then I happened to run into her in the Ministry atrium before your hearing, and she somewhat attached herself to me."

"I saw," Hermione replied, drily.

Quick as a flash he slid his hands from clutching hers to her bare upper arms and pulled her close, almost teetering her over the doorstep, and spoke low and quiet.

"I came to the hearing that day, Hermione, to see your months of hard work reach their deserved conclusion. I came to see my warrior of a witch slay the beast of the Wizengamot with logic, fact and all-round common sense. I was not disappointed, for you were sublime, my darling. My only regret is that I was not there alone and invisible at the back, out of your sight, as I had planned."

He had pulled her so close she could feel his breath on her face.

"Severus ..."

"Hermione," he growled, so urgently and desperately she could feel his heart thumping in his chest as he pulled her against him.

"I give you my word that if you allow me another chance I will spend the rest of my life proving that you were right to do so. I apologise for not having faith in you, for not believing that a witch as outstanding as yourself could truly be in love with such a black-hearted soul as myself. You have woken me from a slumber that I had allowed to dictate my life for too many years. You have shown me, despite me being the teacher and you the student, shown me a better way of living, how to be truly alive."

She stared at him, his expression no longer neutral but a contorted mass of pain and desire.

"Be _with_ me," he whispered, in a low, hypnotic hiss, "Live with me, stay with me, be with me, and when you are ready, _bond with me_ – bond with me and allow me to live out the remainder of my days dedicated to your happiness."

Had he just _proposed_?

Hermione looked at her former professor, the most feared teacher in Hogwarts, a dark wizard from whom she had been able to unearth the soul and life within, a man who fulfilled her every need – emotionally, physically, intellectually and sexually. How could she ever be satisfied with _nice_ when Severus Snape was all ... _this_?

 _This_ was what she needed, what she craved, what she _loved_.

Severus; and all his damnable eccentricities, despondency and emotional constipation.

Severus; and the desperate, obsessive, all-consuming love he had for her.

Nothing else would do, and so she made her decision.

She closed the gap between them and pressed her lips softly to his, kissing his mouth with comforting strokes, before slipping her hands up his chest and behind his head, tangling them in his long hair and pulling him tight towards her.

He let out a groan of relief and desire before pushing his tongue between her lips, forcing the writhing muscle deep into her willing mouth, sweeping around it as if he were reclaiming his territory. He removed his hands from where they were squeezing her upper arms and down to her lower back, pulling her slightly upwards to meet his kisses and she felt his erection clearly pushing again her stomach.

"I think ... Severus ... " she murmured through their kisses, "that you had better come inside now."

She squealed as he tightened his grip around her, lifting her up in the air and she folded her legs around his waist, sitting against his erection which made him groan delightfully again. He walked into the cottage, which suddenly seemed too small for the sheer amount of space his mere _presence_ seemed to take up, and kicked the door shut behind them.

They did not get far.

Not even willing to wait until they reached the living room, he spun around and pressed her into the white wall by the side of the front door, her legs still wound around his waist, and began to kiss her as if he wanted to devour her mouth entirely. She pulled at his cravat tied neatly at his neck, roughening up his starched appearance, and clutched at his bare neck, rubbing her fingers into his needy skin, knowing he would be desperate for her touch.

He used his hips to hold her hard against the wall, his erection pressed against her mound and threatening to burst out of the confines of his trousers. She kept tightening her legs around him, keeping him pulled close, and he slid a hand up her thigh and under the black skirt of her dress, pushing the soft material upwards until he could grasp a handful of her delicious arse, and she moaned so long and loud into his mouth that he slipped his long fingers under the fabric of her knickers, cupping and squeezing the bare cheek he found there.

Moving his hips back from her ever so slightly, he sent a wandless, non-verbal spell to release the zip and buttons from his crotch, since he wasn't sure how much more the tailoring could cope with. His trousers fell down his thighs a little, and his already throbbing and leaking cock sprang forth from the fly of his undershorts, and brushed against her bare leg.

She broke the kiss and he marvelled at her face, stained so erotically with the flush of high arousal. And because of _him._

" _Now_ , please, Severus," she breathed, grasping the back of his neck.

"You are sure?"

" _I need you_."

He did not need telling twice. He vanished her knickers so fast that he wasn't sure whether he'd actually banished them from existence. Not to worry, he would buy her a thousand new pairs if she desired them. Right at that moment he just needed them gone.

He lined up his cock at her entrance, feeling it wet and ready, and looked up, locking his blazing black eyes to her golden brown ones.

"I love you. _Mother of Merlin_ , Hermione, I love you."

"Show me."

He thrust himself hard inside her, pushing her small body up the wall with a jolt and eliciting a deep, guttural moan. She clutched at his shoulders and held his gaze, enticing him to draw out and thrust again, which he did.

She felt so wonderfully familiar, so comforting and so _fucking good_ that it drew tears to his eyes, tears of fright that he could have lost her forever, and tears of joy that he was with her now. He sunk his face into the delectable curve of her neck and began to suck on it deeply as he pistoned into her, driving her hips into the wall with the force and depth of his thrusts. Every part of her was wrapped around him like a snake, making their two bodies move as one.

She felt his tears running down her neck and moved his head so that she could see his face, as he slowed his thrusting to a minimum. She caught his tears with her fingertips, before pulling him towards her so she could kiss them away.

" _I love you_ ," she whispered, planting butterfly kisses over his damp cheeks, lips and nose. "I love you, and I always will. I loved you before I even knew it myself."

Her passionate declaration spurred his movements into beginning again and he increased his pace, driving his cock home inside her, allowing an animalistic moan to escape, a moan of sheer bliss at her words and at their lovemaking, before letting out a cry of defeat as he spilled his seed into her, snapping his hips with each spurt to fully empty himself of his physical love for her.

He remained holding her against the wall with his hips, and she put her arms around his neck and smiled, the wonderful smile she reserved only for him, the one he had feared he would never see again.

"Why Severus," she teased, "I do believe you _owe me_."

"Little witch," he gasped, trying to regain his composure from the intense orgasm he had just experienced, "I will make it my life's work to ensure that you are the most satisfied woman in wizarding Britain."

"Is that another proposal?"

His penis had softened and it slipped from inside her, sending a wry smile to both of their faces. He returned her feet to the floor, tucked it away inside the shorts he still wore, and pulled up his trousers, fastening them completely. She raised her eyebrow in amused confusion and him dressing himself, before smoothing her black summer dress back down over her hips.

"I believe it would be extremely bad form to propose marriage with one's penis hanging out."

She laughed; a wonderful sound that he looked forward to hearing for the rest of his life, and he dropped to one knee in front of her, slightly incredulous as to what he was doing, but with no intention of _not_ doing it.

"My darling girl, I have no wish to tie you down before you are ready, since I desire you to go forth in your career that you have begun with such success. However, it seems that we already have a bond of love, care and mutual respect between us that neither of us are content to let go. Therefore, I formally ask you to undertake a marriage bond with me, but the time and manner of any such bonding will be _your_ decision and yours alone. I have never before in my life asked a witch to bond with me, and never will again. If you will consent to have me as your husband when the time is right, I am yours."

She could not help the tears that were falling unbidden from her eyes in fat drops and trickling down her face, into the corners of her mouth that was split into a wide smile, and down her chin in a most un-elegant manner. She wiped her hands up her cheeks to push them away.

"Do these tears constitute an acceptance of my proposal?"

Amusingly, he looked almost worried. He had no idea of how powerfully attractive he was, no idea whatsoever. Well, that sat just fine with her; she had no intention of sharing her discovery with anyone.

She bent down, whispering a _Finite Incantatum_ to lift the glamour from his neck, revealing the enormous scar that was so inherently a part of him. Sliding her hand delicately along the scar, stroking it with her fingertips in the sensual way she knew brought him so much physical pleasure, she put her mouth directly next to his ear and whispered.

"They do. Yes, I will bond with you, when we are _both_ ready."

She pulled back and kissed him tenderly on the lips, the incredulous look on his face worth a million galleons at that moment. She pulled him to his feet.

"Did you think I might refuse?"

"I don't know what I was thinking of. Only of you; and keeping you close to me."

"Well, now you have me."

He gave her that lascivious, wolfish smirk that always made her insides turn over.

"Little witch, I have not _had you_ nearly enough. Could I persuade you to join me on the sofa? I believe I have had a debt owing for the last ten minutes, and I wish to pay it, _right now_."

He lifted her into his arms and carried her over to the huge, comfortable sofa, the large windowed wall giving them a glorious view of the multicoloured sunset over the horizon, turning the sea from a blue-green to slowly black. There would be many times that he would see this view in the future, with this girl, with this happiness, but right now, this night they had agreed to bond, would surely be the sweetest.

\- xxx –

 **As Neville might say,** _ **this is not over**_ **! If you want to read more - there is more. Let me know. Pouf x**


	50. Chapter 50

**Chapter 50**

He twisted round just as he approached the sofa and sat down in the corner of it with a _whump_ ; Hermione sitting sideways across his lap with her legs down the length of the squashy cushions. His arm was around her back where he had been carrying her, and he slid the long limb up until it was around her shoulders, pulling her towards him so he could passionately kiss her again. It had been entirely too long since he'd had his tongue in her mouth, at least ten minutes and a marriage proposal ago, by his reckoning.

He swirled his tongue around her mouth, enjoying the feel of her little bottom wriggling in his lap. His other arm was stretched to its fullest extent down her body, and he began running his hand leisurely up her smooth leg from ankle to thigh, dipping under her dress and waiting teasingly just at the top of her leg, his fingertip tracing tiny circles on her heated skin.

"What did I do to deserve you, little witch?" he wondered aloud, his eyes heavy-lidded with lust, his mouth wet and slack from her kisses.

She smiled, and pressed her lips to his cheek, kissing down to his damaged neck and beginning to lick and nip with the lightest touch, feeling his cock twitch beneath her as she did so.

" _Fuck_ , Hermione, you know how to touch me. I burn for you; and you alone."

At his words she intensified her efforts; flickering her tongue over the surface of his scar and enjoying the sound of his blissful moaning. His hand was no longer content to rest upon her leg and he delved between her thighs, pushing them apart to seek his prize within.

He spread her open with his long fingers, using his thumb to begin stroking her clitoris, the nub already swelling with her arousal.

" _Severus_ ..." she hissed, pushing her hips upwards to press against his seeking hand.

"I want to hear my name from your lips forever. I want to devote my life to your pleasure."

"Believe me," she whispered, breaking her lips away from their ministrations to his neck and laying back in his supporting arm to fully enjoy the pleasure he was giving her, "I will allow it."

He bent forwards and placed a heavy kiss to her wet mouth.

"I am most pleased to hear that. Now spread your legs for me, so that I can feel your pleasure drip upon my hand as I rub you."

What _was_ it about his mere words that had her turning as boneless as a flobberworm, nothing but a soft instrument for his capable hands to play?

"I do not know, but I am glad they do."

She opened her eyes and looked at his smirking face, gazing intently down at her mound as his wicked hand pleasured her.

"Loud thoughts again," he confirmed, "Do not trouble yourself. Close your eyes again."

She allowed her eyelids to droop and concentrated on the bloody amazing sensations he was creating between her legs. On a purely sexual level, all good sense and emotion left out of it, he truly was a wonderfully satisfying and creative lover – dominant yet gentle, instructive yet receptive, and wholly more _fun_ than she could ever have imagined _Professor Snape_ to be.

She allowed a moan of pleasure to escape her lips as he sank two long fingers into her, continuing his relentless thumbing of her clit, winding her tighter and tighter.

"Yes, my little wife-to-be, moan for me; let me hear you. You like this, don't you? You like me touching you in all your most secret places?"

"Only you," she murmured back, squirming with arousal, "Only _ever_ you."

Her words and actions sent another pulse of pleasure directly to his cock, and he pushed his hips up involuntarily to rub the hardening shaft against her. _Only him_. The very _notion_ of having this beautiful, intelligent girl _all to himself_ was astonishing. He had no doubt he would be the most possessive fiancé the wizarding world had ever seen.

He ceased his deep fingering to take a hold of her clit, now as hard as a small pebble, and twist it back and forth, as if he was delicately unscrewing a bottle cap, and causing the most wonderfully irritating friction; her abdomen jumped with the sensation.

" _Come_ , my Hermione. Come into my hand. _Let me feel you_ ..."

His voice was as hypnotic and commanding as his fingers, now twiddling her clit with such pace and speed that she had no choice but to explode her orgasm from deep inside her, rocking and jolting her hips with a force that meant he struggled to hold on – but of course he did. Severus was far too skilled to allow that.

At length, she came down, and sank into his lap as he littered kisses along her sweaty forehead.

"Good girl," he soothed, "My wonderful girl."

"Can you make love to me again?" her voice sounded small and pleading, even to her own ears, and it made her laugh. "Not that I want to beg," she smiled.

"You will never have to beg me to undertake such a pleasurable job. However, this is the first time we will have made love since you agreed to accept my bond, and therefore I am not convinced that the sofa is the best place."

Before she could answer, she found herself stood in the small space at the end of her bed, the only bit of floor in the room that was otherwise just wall-to-wall bed. Severus was holding her, his strong arms and chest a steadying force as she adjusted to going from lying down to standing up in the split-second of his surprise apparition.

She stepped away and turned to face him, flicking her wand at the bed to make it ( _oops, a job she should've done that morning_ ) before placing it trustingly on the shelf. She unclasped the black travelling cloak he was still wearing from when he arrived, and pushed it from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. He drew his own wand from his sleeve, and ran it down the many buttons of his frock coat to unfasten them before placing the carved ebony wood beside her intricately-carved vinewood on the shelf. The partnered wands rested side by side, a symbol of their confirmed love for one another.

He took off his coat, and it joined his cloak on the floor. Hermione pulled his cravat, which she had already untied, from him slowly, allowing it to slither around his neck as she removed it. She then untucked the white shirt from his waistband and fluttered her fingers around the buttons, undoing each one with care as he looked down and watched her, hands by his side and visibly enthralled, no anxiety upon his face.

Once she had it fully open, she slipped her hands under the shirt and touched the warm skin of his pale chest, stroking and reacquainting herself with the feel of him. She ran her fingers through the coarse black hair on his chest and slid them down to the fine line of sparser hair that became softer and led to his groin. She traced the scars and abrasions that she knew so well, and used her forefingers to circle his nipples and make him gasp.

Finally she pushed the shirt from his shoulders and walked around to his back, running her hands over the deep welts from the magical whip with which Voldemort had inflicted his terrible punishment. The skin was red, lumpy and dry, and looked uncared for. She would be resuming applying his calendula balm straight away. She leaned forward and kissed his tortured skin gently, light faerie kisses all over the scarred areas that were the physical evidence of how much this wizard had suffered.

Severus could have wept at her touch. In fact, the itchy state of his eyes meant he probably was. Hermione touched him as no one else on earth had ever done. He used alternate feet to stand on the back of each of his boots and push them off, before turning slightly and pulling her in front of him again. She followed his lead and slipped off her shoes.

He turned her delicately around, gathering up her hair and laying it over one of her shoulders, kissing the side of her neck that he had exposed and enjoying feeling the sensitive flesh shiver underneath his lips. He lifted his hands to the zip and slowly pulled it all the way down, exposing the exquisite skin on her back, inch by inch, before sliding the dress down her arms and allowing it to pool on the floor.

He encircled her with his arms, rubbing her stomach and stroking her breasts reverently, all the time kissing her neck, the familiar and musky scent of him driving her crazy.

"I have said this before tonight," she whispered, stroking the soft black hair on his forearms, "But I really do love you so very much. I did not enjoy being without you."

She felt his lips curl into a smile against her neck, and he drew back, unfastening her bra and pushing it to the floor to join the rest of the small clothes mountain they were making, before sliding his hands back around her and cupping himself a bare breast in each hand.

He began to lightly squeeze them, lifting the satin flesh and circling her nipples with his forefingers. She closed her eyes and leaned back against his chest, and she felt his head dip to her cheek, to her ear, and enjoyed the warmth of his breathing, heavy and sure.

"I intend to ensure that you _never_ have to be without me again," he rumbled, adjusting the position of his large hands that were completely enveloping her breasts and continuing to massage them, bringing them both equal amounts of pleasure.

"I still think you may be Confunded, however."

He barked a quick laugh.

She laughed with him, and spun around in his arms, her hands headed straight for the fastening of his trousers and made quick work of the buttons and zip formation she knew so well. He found them pushed down his narrow hips, his shorts taken with them, and Hermione clearly enjoying the sight of his substantial erection springing free.

Severus looked down.

"Now _this_ will never do."

He flicked his fingers at his black socks, the only item of clothing he was still wearing, and the offending items vanished. She grinned her approval before reaching for him, wanting and needing more kisses which he was only too content to provide. Each stroked their hands over the naked body of the other, as they kissed, open-mouthed and passionately, wanting to touch once again that which they had thought lost.

At length, they stepped towards the bed and crawled to the middle of it, atop the covers since the temperature in the room was so warm, and not just due to the heat of the summer's evening. They rolled together and resumed their kiss, entangling their feet and continuing their searching, stroking exploration with their hands.

Severus began to grind his erection against her, the feel of Hermione in his arms doing all manner of insane things to both his body and his brain. Since she had been the one to request the lovemaking, he felt no guilt whatsoever in toppling her over onto her back and climbing on top, nudging her thighs apart with his own and settling his hips in between, his hard prick pushed tight against her hot, wet cunt.

"Merlin knows how much I need you, Hermione."

"I know, too," she replied, looking up at him with her honest eyes, shining blue in the moonlight.

He eased himself inside her, spreading her walls slowly with his cock, sliding his velvet-over-steel erection further and further, until it was not possible to be any deeper within. She crossed her legs around his back and held him there, and was not surprised to feel the wet splash of a tear upon her cheek.

"I love you, Severus," she reassured him, wiping away his tear. "You will never be alone any more. You have me, forever and always."

 _Always._

That particular word came back to him like a punch in the gut. The time he had used that word in relation to love, he had not even realised what _love_ meant, what _love_ really felt like.

At that point the feeling he had _mistaken_ for love was guilt, fear, obsession, anger, alongside a sense of obligation and duty – but it had _not_ been love. _It had never been love_.

What he had beneath him right now?

 _This_ was love.

" _Always_ , my darling girl. I will love you always."

He smiled, and she returned it.

He loved, and she returned it.

Severus Snape finally knew, without a shadow of doubt, what _love_ was.

Hermione cocked a cheeky eyebrow and reminded him of the job in hand with a squeeze of her legs that were still wrapped around him.

He shook his hips free of her legs and planted his arms either side of her head, smirking wickedly before beginning to thrust into her, in and out, cramming himself in deep and then drawing nearly all the way out again. As her little squeaks became cries of delight, he angled his hips to fuck her differently, enjoying the look of surprise that passed over her face.

He thrust into her with all his might, his forehead and chest sweating, the veins pulsing in his arms visible through his alabaster-white skin, the ripple of his muscles contracting as he laboured above her. Hermione lifted her arms and interlaced her fingers into his long black hair, the raven strands swinging free about his face as he pistoned into her relentlessly.

He watched her tits wobbling madly as her body jerked with each of his hard thrusts, and lowered himself a little so that he could feel them rub against his chest. That was enough. This witch was fucking _perfection itself_ , as he had said to her just before he kissed her for the very first time that night in the forest, so many months ago now.

He lost hold of his legendary control and let his hips fly free and abandoned, the rapid movement triggering her orgasm and he felt her tight walls spasm around his cock. He carried on slamming into her until he came, shooting his love into her again and again, shouting her name.

He wasn't sure if you consummated an engagement, but if you did, they certainly just _had_ , in the most _thorough_ way possible.

\- xxx –

Awaking the next morning to an empty bed and an enticing smell of scrambled eggs wafting up the spiral staircase, Hermione guessed that her dark wizard had made breakfast. In all the passion and excitement of the previous evening she had forgotten one very important fact, her fiancé could _cook_.

With a broad smile on her face and a frisson of excitement (and hunger) she grabbed a pair of shorts and a vest top, throwing them on before heading downstairs to find Severus flipping a pan of scrambled eggs stark naked, and two plates with strips of smoked salmon already laid out on them with accompanying lemon wedges, and a pot of coffee magically brewing itself on top of the breakfast bar.

"Naked cooking?" she asked, teasingly, "How did I ever get so lucky?"

"I find myself unwilling to get dressed if there is the slightest potential of more sex. Now, sit."

He gestured with the cooking _implement_ (she didn't even know what it was called, the flattish wooden thing he was flipping the eggs with) towards the tall seats behind the breakfast bar, and she headed straight there as he spooned the divine looking scramble onto their plates.

"I am so glad you are here," she told him, through a mouthful of eggs and salmon.

"You told me that many times last night."

"I know, but I wanted to make it clear that this morning I find myself _particularly_ glad."

"And why is that?" he replied, a knowing look on his face, and she suspected he already knew the answer before she gave it.

"Because I think I might have starved to death before long," she admitted, "Cooking and me are just not good bedfellows."

"Well then, that is most fortuitous news, since I am a reasonable enough cook, and an excellent bedfellow."

He took a sip of the freshly-brewed coffee, and attempted not to smirk.

"I'm sorry I can't cook."

"Don't be. You have many other talents that I intend to take full advantage of."

Then he _definitely_ smirked.

\- xxx –

After an afternoon spent getting some fresh sea air on the beach, they returned to the cottage so that Severus could indeed take advantage of a very _particular_ talent of Hermione's that he (and his penis) had missed very much.

Following a light early supper, they had sat on the swing-seat in the cottage garden discussing living arrangements.

"I do not wish ever to live without you again," he had told her, earnestly and sincerely.

They agreed that during a normal working week they would live at Severus' barn from Sunday night until Friday evening, when they would travel to Hermione's cottage and spend the weekend there, unless they had other plans.

"And what other plans might we have?" Severus queried.

"Seeing friends, socialising, _having a life_ ," Hermione had answered, enjoying the alarm that had spread across his face, folding her arms and lifting her chin in a manner he already knew meant that this item was _not negotiable_.

He secretly knew that, anyway.

"I understand. I may ... I may, have to ask for your assistance, Hermione. I am not accustomed to being _social_ , nor having friends."

"Anything we do; will be done _together_. I am by your side, and proud to be there. Anything for the man who cooks my breakfast," she added, with a wink that drew his famously lop-sided smile to the corner of his mouth.

Once again she had silenced him with her words. _Proud_ to be by his side? He was half-afraid he would wake up from this most exquisite of dreams and find himself back in the Hogwarts dungeons awaiting his arm to burn with his next summons from the Dark Lord.

\- xxx –

Hermione found herself running late for work on Monday morning, not because she had awoken late, in fact she had been awake earlier than usual due to a hard and inquisitive erection poking her in the back, but because the aforementioned erection had proved most distracting once she made the mistake of engaging with it.

Unable to resist the enticing warmth and uniquely delicious smell of Severus curled behind her, and the touch of his large hand cupping her naked breast, he had with her consent entered her languorously from behind, stoking her inner flame with his morning enthusiasm.

He had been lazily toying with her nipple after fucking them both to a luxurious orgasm when she realised it was actually Monday, and she was due at work. There was no way she could go without a shower, not after what Severus had just stirred up between her legs, and that would make her even later.

After throwing her clothes on and tying her damp hair up in a ponytail, she grabbed her bag and made for the fireplace in the bedroom, where he came over to kiss her goodbye, clad only in his soft grey pyjama pants that he had pulled on.

"One kiss. One kiss, Severus, I mean it. I am already late."

She struggled to resist the desire on his face as he took his allotted kiss, but remained close to her, hoping she would change her mind and allow him another. _Merlin_ , he'd drag her back to bed and fuck her again if he could. His desire must have been obvious to her.

"You are entirely too handsome. I will get you back for this later," she threatened.

"One can only hope," he smirked, putting his hands in his pockets and reluctantly allowing her to leave, watching her throw the Floo powder into the flames and step through.

\- xxx –

Hermione arrived in the office, late, but not tardy enough to be caught by Pridmore, who was yet to put in an appearance in the department, as she saw from the open door of his empty corner office. She approached her desk to see Esther smiling broadly and winking in a coarsely suggestive manner, and her heart leapt to see a gorgeous bouquet of flowers upon her desk, waiting for her.

Her Severus. How he had managed to arrange this sweet surprise when to her knowledge he had been with her every second since they rekindled their relationship she did not know, but then Severus often managed things that seemed to be so far even beyond magic, she would not doubt his capability at anything he set his mind to.

She sent her cloak flying over to the stand and sat down at her desk, after throwing her bag in the drawer, enjoying the perfume of the blooms and untying the small scroll of scented parchment that was attached to the large purple ribbon that tied them.

 _Hermione_

 _I had a wonderful time the other week._

 _I am so sorry we've not seen each other since then, as you can imagine, my department at the hospital been crazy busy setting up the distribution of the new Wolfsbane, we have all been working overtime since the ruling._

 _Please accept my sincere apology, and agree to coming out with me on Friday night?_

 _There's a new restaurant in Horizont Alley that I would love to take you to. I've made reservations for 8pm._

 _Yours_

 _David Bergin_

Esther was looking at her expectantly, clearly dying to find out who the extravagant bouquet was from, and what it said on the note.

David.

 _Fuck._

She had forgotten all about _him_.


	51. Chapter 51

**Chapter 51**

Hermione returned to the barn after work, flooing home into one of the two large fireplaces that were in the main lab. There was no sign of Draco, but Severus was there, stirring a tiny cauldron above a burning flame with his left hand, and making notes on a piece of parchment with his right.

He looked up at the noise of the Floo, his striking features breaking into a genuine smile at the sight of her. It warmed her heart. As she walked towards him, he cast a stasis charm at the cauldron to pause his work before gathering her into his arms, lifting her to sit upon the empty bench behind him and sinking his hands into her hair, cupping her head with a moan of sweet relief before helping himself to her mouth, kissing her with both a tenderness that melted her and an urgency that curled her toes.

She returned his kiss with eagerness, and ran her hands over his back, which was covered with only the plain white shirt he was wearing to brew; soothing him, welcoming him, reassuring him of her presence. His need for physical and emotional nurture had not abated and she was more than content to provide it.

Keeping one hand holding the back of her head, he slid the other down her body, tracing her curves down and slipping it under her skirt, pushing his hand along her bare thigh, reaching under and towards her bottom. She gasped as he squeezed her arse, hopping slightly up in surprise from the surface of the workbench where she was seated. Feeling him smile against her lips as he continued to snog her into incoherence, and grab himself a fresh handful of her bum cheek, she suspected that had been his plan all along.

He really could take her apart with just the passion of his kisses.

Neither of them heard the soft crack of apparition inside the porch and the door to the workroom open quietly.

"There aren't many sights that would put me off my food, but _that_ is certainly one of them," came the sneering tones of Draco Malfoy as he entered the room.

Severus reluctantly stopped kissing, removed his hands from Hermione and turned around with a look of disdain and annoyance on his face.

"A few missed meals wouldn't go amiss, Draco, lest you end up as fat as one of your father's neglected peacocks," he drawled.

"My father himself is putting on weight faster than the stupid birds, stuck at home with no means of magical transportation."

Did she imagine it or had she just noted a glimmer of disgust in Draco's tone and anger flit across his face as he mentioned his father?

"Indeed. Why are you here? Had we not agreed you had finished for the day after delivering the order to Slug and Jiggers?"

"We had," Draco replied, sauntering over to the third workbench that contained neither Hermione, nor a brewing cauldron, "But I didn't take my books."

He began to gather up half a dozen advanced and mastery-level Potions textbooks into a plain leather bookbag, along with sheafs of parchments covered in scrawled notes, not appearing to be in any hurry to leave.

"You couldn't have taken those with you?" Severus chided.

"As well as four boxes of potions bottles? I had enough trouble apparating with _them_ in one hit, without taking a bulging bookbag too."

Severus turned back to Hermione.

"You must excuse my apprentice. He forgets he is a wizard, from time to time, with the ability to shrink items at will."

"Well, I didn't know you two were going to be re-enacting a scene from one of Madam Pince's _private_ book collections as soon as I left the building, did I? Should I presume, from the position I found you both in, that this little relationship is back on?"

He waved his finger vaguely between the two of them.

"Irma Pince's _what_?" Severus looked appalled.

Hermione blushed. She had read many of the librarian's private collection of erotica books during her later years at Hogwarts. What was a healthy young witch with a passion for reading to do? Severus turned and caught her guilty expression.

"I shall expect a _full and frank_ explanation of these books later," he told her, making sure only she, not Draco, could see his black eyes simmering with wicked intent.

He turned back to Draco.

"Do you have everything you require, now?" he asked the young wizard, tetchily.

Draco patted his bag, mockingly.

"Everything present and correct. I am going. You can shove your hand back up Granger's skirt now."

"Oh, I intend to, Mr Malfoy."

Severus was wholly unabashed, and she bit back a smile of amusement at the verbal sparring between him and Draco. The younger man shook his head with a wry smile and headed back towards the apparition porch, closing the door loudly behind him.

Severus turned back towards her, reaching for her in such a predatory way that she only just remembered what she _had_ to discuss with him before they got involved in anything ... _else_.

"Stop, please wait a minute, Severus," she blurted out, quickly.

"What is the matter?" he questioned; his lips already halfway to her mouth.

"There is something that happened today, that reminded me of something else that I absolutely must talk to you about."

He raised his eyebrow to bid her to continue.

"I don't want there to be any secrets between us. None at all."

"I agree."

"I mean it. This is a fresh start for us. We gave so much of ourselves to make this relationship work, and then we almost lost it all through misunderstandings and not being honest with each other about things that worry us."

"Hermione. I said I agree. I absolutely agree. I will allow nothing to come between us again that it is within my power to prevent."

She hopped from the bench onto the stone floor and pulled over a wooden stool, which squeaked as it scraped along the flagstones. Severus followed her lead and sat down. She put her bag on the bench and opened it, pulling out two rolled scrolls; one the scented parchment that had come with the flowers, and the other a missive she had written at her desk that afternoon.

Taking a deep breath, she began.

"Severus. When we were apart from each other, I went out on a date with another wizard."

She spoke slowly, wanting him to hear and understand every word. He cupped his chin in his hand and began to stroke it with one long finger, thoughtfully. His eyes had closed down, they were expressionless. He was trying to guard his feelings.

"Go on."

"I did not know that we would get back together. I thought that our relationship was over, that you wanted nothing more to do with me."

She saw him visibly wince in pain.

"Although my mind was full of only you, my logical side took over when I was asked out for a drink. I did not want to begin another relationship, certainly not, but I thought it would be nice to go. He was, _is_ , a decent and kind wizard, and I felt like I did not have anything to lose by accompanying him."

There was a long pause as she waited for him to process each piece of information. This would be the only way they could work through this, his jealousy and possessiveness were just too raw and as-yet untamed for this to be easy.

"I suppose," he said slowly, at length, "That it was _I_ who was concerned that I was the sole wizard you had ... _been with_. In that respect I cannot fault you for following my advice."

He gave her a sad smile, and she continued.

"It was the night of the Wizengamot hearing. After I had seen you with Madam Tonks, I mean, Andromeda Black; and jumped to conclusions that the two of you were together. He was in court because he is one of the potions researchers at St Mungo's ..."

Severus cut her off.

"St Mungo's researchers? It wasn't that _Bergin_ , was it, Caspar's son?"

"It was," she admitted.

"I knew that little shit liked you from the way you described him after the meeting in your office. "

"Well, clearly he did like me, yes, Severus, seeing as he asked me out," she replied, drily.

She would take things gradually, but she wasn't prepared to pander to _everything_. He grumbled under his breath, but did not say anything further, and gestured with his hand for her to continue.

"We went out that night, had dinner and drinks in the Leaky, and since there was a celebratory atmosphere following the werewolf ruling, Tom had opened the back room for dancing. We kissed while we were dancing. David, not Tom, obviously. Afterwards he walked me to one of the apparition stops in Diagon Alley, and asked to see me again. I said yes, as he was nice enough. He kissed me goodbye."

"A proper kiss?"

"What do you, a proper kiss?"

He gave a quick, quiet growl.

"Don't be obtuse. Did he put his tongue in your mouth? Did he touch you? I realise I have no right to ask, but I need to know."

She didn't answer him straight away, merely looked at him questioningly, allowing him time to calm himself and realise how silly he sounded.

"Yes. And yes. But he only held me around the waist. Nowhere else."

Severus had a sour look on his face as he processed this wealth of new information. He leaned his elbows on the bench and began to rub at the crease between his eyebrows, closing his eyes and looking pained.

"Are you in a confirmed relationship with David Bergin?"

"I most certainly am not. We have been out for _one_ evening. The reason that I wish to discuss this with you now is because of a letter I received from him today."

She handed over the scroll of scented parchment and he took it with a wrinkle of his nose.

"It's scented."

"I realise that, Hermione."

"It came with a bouquet of flowers that were delivered to my desk and waiting when I arrived at the office."

"And where are the said flowers now?"

"I met up with Arthur Weasley at the end of day, in the atrium. I asked him to take the flowers home with him to Molly as a gift from me."

He flicked her an expression that she read as _Nice one_.

She shrugged.

He unrolled the letter and read the note that had accompanied David's flowers. The time it took him, she guessed he had read it through more than one, branding the words on his brain, no doubt to torture himself with.

"Have you responded?"

"Not yet. I wanted to discuss him with you first. I do not want us ever to mistrust or misunderstand each other ever again. I have written a letter in reply, which I would like your opinion on before sending. I had thought to go and visit him at St Mungo's and explain in person, but that seems a little _too much_ since we have only spent one evening together, there were certainly no commitments or promises made."

She passed him the second scroll, a plain Ministry-issued parchment filled with her neat, looping handwriting that he recognised so well from her several-feet-long essays she had regularly turned in at school. He took his reading spectacles from atop his notebook on the workbench and placed them on his long, hooked nose.

 _Dear David_

 _Thank you so much for the flowers, that was very thoughtful of you._

 _Do not worry that you haven't been in touch since the hearing, I am sure you have indeed been over-run with extra work due to the new ruling._

 _I feel I must be blunt and tell you that I am unable to accept your invitation for dinner on Friday, or any time in future, as kind as it was._

 _When you and I had our evening together, I was estranged from my boyfriend with whom I have since reconciled; in fact, we are engaged to be bonded._

 _I apologise sincerely for any hurt this may cause you, I assure you that when we were together, I was a single witch and it was not my intent to give you any kind of false impression._

 _Wishing you every happiness and success for the future_

 _Hermione Granger_

This missive too, he read several times.

"What do you think?" she asked him, nervously.

He looked at her over the top of the letter, in a way she found strangely attractive. It must be the reading glasses; she remembered she had thought he looked sexy in them before.

"I think ... that you should owl this letter without delay. You may use one of my birds."

He gestured towards the door that led to the owlery and she looked at him, slightly surprised.

"You do not want to discuss this any further?"

"What I _want_ to do, Hermione Granger, is hex the little bastard's filthy hands right off for taking the liberty of laying them upon you. However ... I believe that may be frowned upon. So I shall say this, instead."

He took both her hands in his, pulling her to stand in between his legs as he sat on the high wooden stool.

"You have done absolutely nothing wrong. We were not together at that time and you had every right to do whatever you desired. I am a jealous, angry and possessive man, but none of _my_ character flaws are _your_ fault. I refuse to allow my own toxic personality to destroy our relationship for a second time. Therefore I will let this pass. I _must_ let it pass. It is entirely my problem, and not one bit yours."

She put her arms around his neck and began to kiss his mouth, pushing open his lips with her own, tasting his tongue with just the tip of hers, teasing him until she felt him give in and thrust into her mouth and hold her tightly around her waist, as if trying to purge her of anyone else, making her entirely _his_.

Which of course, she was anyway.

\- xxx -

Breaking the kiss after a time, he re-rolled the parchment, sealing it arrogantly with a black wax seal clearly marked from _STS Potions_ , and handed it back to her.

"Be careful in the owlery. There is somewhat of a loose cannon amongst my brood."

He remained on the stool as she pulled open the owlery door and heard a general hubbub of hooting from the small, _normal_ owls, and then a giant _honk_ from Hannibal.

"Oh, I remember you! You brought me the parcel at the Burrow that time. Hello, my lovely ... are you volunteering for the job? Thank you! Would you like a treat before you deliver my letter for me?"

He wasn't quite sure he believed his ears, so he strode quickly over to the open door and peered in. Hermione was standing with Hannibal perched on her bare arm, which was remarkably free of any blood or scratches, feeding him owl treats and petting his inky feathers as if he were a docile pygmy puff.

"Hermione, be careful of that owl, he might look placid now, but I warn you, he is a psychopath."

"Nonsense. Look at him, he's beautiful! A gentle giant, just like Hagrid."

Severus thought that if Hannibal was anything like Hagrid, then Professor Sprout was the illegitimate spawn of Grindelwald.

"I promise you, Hannibal is an ill-tempered, egotistical, vengeful bastard."

"Just like his owner, then?"

"He shits everywhere."

"So do most owls. Stop being mean. Don't listen to him, Hannibal, ignore the nasty man. Can you take my letter for me please?"

Severus would swear on several graves that the giant bird looked over Hermione's shoulder as she held him up to the entry-hole to release him, and met his eye with an insolent look that might as well have said, _Fuck you, arsehole_.

He would pay for that. There must be a recipe for Owl Pie somewhere.

\- xxx –

Closing the owlery door and walking back into the lab, he put his arms around her and began to kiss her neck, anxious to resume what they had started when she'd first walked in from work. He felt her stomach rumble under his hands, and chuckled low against her ear.

"Even I, being the bastard that I am, cannot fuck you whilst you are starving, little witch."

"It's been a busy day. I missed lunch."

"Then it is even more urgent that I feed you. Could I entreat you to finish my potion so I can commence cooking all the sooner? It is at the stirring stage and only needs twenty-seven minutes before it is completed. Eleven clockwise stirs, followed by an anti-clockwise."

"Of course, if it means I can eat sooner. I am surprised you trust me with one of your potions though, I know how meticulous you are about every potion you send out being perfect."

"That is indeed true. However, this is not a brew for an order; this is a supply of your contraceptive potion, so it is in your own interest to brew it correctly, unless you wish to be caring for a screaming infant with an oversized nose."

She kissed him on the top of his _own_ oversized nose, and sent him up the stairs to make food for her, removing the stasis charm on the cauldron and beginning the pattern of stirring that Severus had instructed. She certainly did not want to be caring for a screaming infant. Not _yet_ , anyway.

\- xxx –

The following day she sat at her desk at work, trying, with various degrees of success, to hide the smile that she was finding it impossible to wipe from her face. Esther had already commented on it twice, and strongly suggested that Hermione might be the recipient of a sneaky hex to _focus her mind on work_ if she caught her again.

Last night at the barn had been sublime. She had completed the stirring of the contraceptive potion, decanted and stoppered it, before following the delicious smell that was trailing down the open-plan stairs from the loft room above.

Severus had been barefoot in the little kitchen area, his long hair pulled back and wearing his soft grey lounge pants slung around his hips with his white shirt unbuttoned. _Sod the dinner_ , she had thought, I'll eat _you_.

"Don't even think about it," he warned, before sending her off to change out of her work clothes. She opted for her usual pyjama shorts and vest, leaving off her bra for comfort, which certainly got his attention as he stared longingly at her pert nipples through the thin, stretchy material.

He'd made an amazing chicken chasseur that tasted as good as it looked, and poured them both a goblet of dry white wine to accompany. They started off sitting opposite one another at the small square dining table, but had quickly moved to the same corner, eating with their arms and legs touching, their reunion still so new and delightful that they could not bear to be separated, not even by a table.

They had spent the evening post-dinner reading a Shakespeare play together, leaving the wizarding world outside for just one night and embracing their inner muggle as they read sonnet after soliloquy to each other, totally immersed in the flowing, archaic language.

Settling down for the night in the sumptuous sleigh bed, they had tenderly stripped each other of their sparse garments, and Severus had made love to her with skill and passion, drawing out both their orgasms and playing her body like an exquisitely tuned piano. He had brought tears to her eyes and kissed them away with promises of love and fidelity before wrapping her in his arms and protecting her as she slept.

The blissful memory was written all over her face today.

She was definitely not concentrating on her work as a lilac internal memo aeroplane hit her on the head and got lodged in her hair. Esther laughed, and Hermione flicked a paperclip at her, which landed in her cup of tea.

The memo was from Arthur in his department, asking her to meet him in the atrium at lunchtime, and advising he had brought her a salt-beef sandwich and a flask of pumpkin juice from Molly so not to worry about buying anything. Bless him.

They sat by the fountain in the atrium eating their packed lunches alongside many other ministry workers, catching up on the goings-on in each other departments to the backdrop of the tinkling water falling, echoing around the vast atrium. Arthur was enthusing about baby Keah and her progress, and how well Ron was doing. Clearly he had embraced life as a grandfather with great gusto. He also said they were suspecting an announcement from Bill and Fleur any day now, as they had visited the Burrow at the weekend and Molly had manage to convince herself that Fleur was expecting.

He explained that the reason for asking her to meet was to formally invite her to dinner on Saturday night, they were having all the children and their wives and partners over as Charlie was visiting from Romania, he even expressed hope that Ginny might be able to get some leave from the Holyhead Harpies to be there. Harry, as honorary son and Burrow resident, would also be present.

"Molly and I would be delighted if you came, Hermione, and brought your young man. We consider you a daughter, as you know, and it is high time we met the wizard who has captured your heart!"

Hermione stared at him for a long time, to such an extent that he began to dab at his mouth, thinking there was perhaps a piece of beef sandwich stuck to his lip.

 _No more hiding_ , she thought to herself, and took a deep breath.

"Arthur, I'd really love to. I would really love for my boyfriend to come too, and for you all to meet him, and see how special he is and how important he is to me. I'll need to ask him, but I'm sure he will come if I want him to."

"That sounds good, young Hermione; you've got him well-trained already? Molly will be pleased to hear that! Shall we say seven o'clock, Saturday?"

"Mr Weasley, _Arthur_ , there's a little more to it than that," she started, placing her hand on his forearm to stall him, as he had already started to rise from his seat.

"There is?" he looked confused, as if he was mentally running through a checklist that Molly had given him entitled _Things to Ask Hermione_.

"My boyfriend has asked me to bond with him. Not now, only when I am ready. He respects that I have things I wish to achieve in my career first. But nonetheless I accepted and we are engaged."

"But that's wonderful news! We can celebrate on Saturday!"

He looked relieved, but then glanced at her nervous expression and realised there was more to come. Clearly the news of the engagement was not the main event.

"You already know my boyfriend, my fiancé. In fact you know him very well indeed."

"You're not secretly back with Ron, are you?" his face lit up and she felt a pang of regret at the knowledge that he would love to have her as a daughter-in-law.

"No. Ron and I haven't been together for a very long time. No secrets there. The only thing I have been keeping from you is that I have been seeing Severus Snape. Since the beginning of the year."

Mr Weasley's mouth dropped open in a gormless way that reminded her strongly of Ronald.

"I know that it seems like a curious match. However, I can tell you that we love each other deeply and completely. There is nothing I would not trust him with, and he feels the same way about me. Harry and Ron already know, and George found out ... by accident."

Arthur seemed to be struggling to find the right words, and she loved him for it. He didn't want to offend her, didn't want to say the sort of wrong thing that slips out at a time like this and is so very hard to forgive.

"Hermione," he began, taking her hand, "Hermione, I trust your judgement. More than I trust the judgement of some of my own children; I'll have you know. I am not going to say I'm not shocked at your choice of bond, but it is _your_ choice to make. Molly and I are _always_ here for you. We would be pleased to have you and Severus over for dinner on Saturday night."

She gave him a quick hug, and they both hurried back to work. Hermione couldn't help smiling as she thought of Mr Weasley at his desk, willing the afternoon to go faster so he could get home to Molly and tell her the brand-new gossip that not only was Hermione sleeping with her old professor twenty years her senior, their ex-Order of the Phoenix colleague and tormentor of their children – no, not just _that_. No, she was engaged to bond with him too.

Ah well. It had to come out sooner or later. She wasn't prepared to hide it anymore. She was proud of being Severus' partner and was ready to tell the world.

Severus. Now there was the other side of the sickle. He was _less_ ready. But if they waited for _him_ to be ready they'd be a hundred-and-five before they walked down Diagon Alley holding hands. He had agreed to be social, confessed his fear of it, and asked for her help. She couldn't and wouldn't ask for more than that.

He was certain to be _delighted_ (horrified) at the thought being expected at a dinner hosted by the full contingent of Weasleys at the Burrow.

 _Hmmm_. If he wanted to be with her, that meant coming out in the open and living his life, no more hiding away. He could do it, and she would help him. She smiled at the thought, shortly before being hit on the nose with a pepper hex, making her sneeze violently a dozen times.

Esther was grinning from her desk, slipping her wand back into her handbag after delivering the threatened hex. She'd caught Hermione smirking inanely to herself once too often today.


	52. Chapter 52

**Chapter 52**

Saturday had consisted of dragging Severus down to the beach to get some fresh air and a little colour in his deathly-white cheeks. She had even managed to persuade him to remove his heavy boots and socks in order to join her for a paddle in the shallows, near the jutting rocks that were slick with seaweed, and a good distance away from the families whose children were splashing in the water.

She knew he was nervous about the upcoming dinner that evening, and even if she hadn't known, it was written all over his face and in every awkward movement of his body. Honestly, how could she have ever thought this wizard was expressionless? His whole self was open for viewing, if one knew what they were looking for.

When she had first told him of the invitation, he'd initially looked at her in horror, before apparently resigning himself to the indignity of an evening spent amongst Weasleys at the Burrow. He had sighed heavily, and then replied that he would do it _for her_ , and she quickly disabused him of that notion, stating that he would do it _for them_ , for if they were going to have a future together as a bonded couple they could not hide themselves away any longer.

They had been sitting together on the sofa at the side of the workroom at Lawton Barn during the conversation, and Severus had quickly risen and begun pottering around the laboratory, finding relief from the tension he was feeling by undertaking completely meaningless tasks around his workspace. Hermione had let him be, allowing him to process his own anxiety. After all, it was not so very long ago she had found him self-harming and in a dreadful state of mental health – he could no more help his emotional reactions, or lack of them, than he could stop breathing.

Severus paddled around in the pleasantly warm water of the Cornish beach near Cliffside Cottage, the intoxicating normalcy of the situation not lost on him. Hermione was already knee-deep in the sea, her skirt tucked under into the sides of her knickers and rampant curls blowing in the light breeze. His own trousers were folded over twice to just above the ankle, and that would be as deep as he would be paddling, _thank you very much_.

He knew why he had agreed to this thrice-forsaken evening with the Weasleys and that was because his tiny fiancée had been entirely correct when she said they could not hide themselves away if they were to have any hope of a normal relationship. He _wanted_ normal. So much, in fact mostly _all_ , of his life had been so entirely _abnormal_ that the thought of settling down with a job he craved, a witch he loved and nothing more was beyond the wildest of his dreams.

That didn't make the thought of spending the evening dining with an army of red-headed Gryffindors any easier. He honestly had no idea how events would unfold. Would Arthur and Molly be hostile to him? They had treated him with barely-concealed dislike during their time working together for the Order of the Phoenix, never liking and never trusting the man who had once shown such lust for the dark arts.

Who could blame them for thinking that way? Following his murder of Albus and the treatment metered out to Ginevra Weasley during his year of tenure as Headmaster, he doubt they were any more disposed to like him _now_ any more than they had then.

Hermione had advised him that the second Weasley, Charles, (if he remembered rightly) a stocky ginger compared to his elder brother's tall, athletic frame, now some kind of swarthy dragon wrangler in Romania, was home for the week, and it was for this honour that the meal was being held in the first place.

All Molly and Arthur's progeny were intended to be at the meal, the only exception being Ginevra, whose flourishing career with the all-female Holyhead Harpies quidditch team did not allow her to be present. Well, thank goodness for small mercies. The last time he had locked eyes with _that_ young lady he had been overseeing her punishment for attempting to steal the Sword of Gryffindor from his Hogwarts office alongside the Lovegood girl. It had not been a pleasant experience, trying to keep his cover whilst preventing the insane Carrows from making good on their threat to torture the girls to within an inch of their lives.

He shuddered. Never did he want to return to those times. Although it seemed that tonight he was going to be inescapably reminded of it. The Weasleys were his past, Hermione was his present, but the two were intrinsically linked. He would not deny her the love of people whom she considered family, especially after the loss of her own.

He watched her splash around in the water, thigh-high now and uncaring that the bottom of her dress was getting wet. Despite the seriousness and intelligence he knew was within, she looked not to have a care in the world, her youthful yet sincere smile enough to warm his heart and bring a rare curve to his own lips in return. He found her exquisitely beautiful; not only for her divine beauty but also for the rapaciousness of her brain, her integrity and her moral code.

Would he be castigated tonight for taking up with a witch young enough to be his daughter, and a former student, no less? There could be little doubt that the Weasleys would find their relationship abhorrent, thinking him as a disgusting and predatory pervert who seduced a pupil under his care, no matter what the true story was.

He was shocked from his musings with a flinch as Hermione put her wet arms around his middle – she had approached him through the water without him noticing.

"Stop," she chided, and neither of them had to say exactly _what_ it was she wanted him to cease. His worry must have been etched all over his unattractive face.

"I am sorry."

He rubbed the sides of her bare arms with his hands.

"Enough worrying. What will happen, will happen. It won't affect anything between us."

She gave him a hard squeeze around the middle, unbalancing them both.

"Hermione, if you pull me over fully-clothed into this water, I shall not be responsible for the consequences," he chided, raising his eyebrows at her in mock-annoyance.

She looked up at him, impishly.

"Fully-clothed ... So, you're saying I could pull you over _naked_ in the water, then?"

"Bloody teasing little witch. The only place I will be naked is in that cottage up there."

He lifted his chin and gestured towards Cliffside Cottage on the top of the low, gently shelving cliff.

"That sounds like an excellent suggestion."

She took his hand and began to pull him out of the sea, stomping over the sand and picking up both their shoes and handing them to him.

"I don't believe I suggested anything."

"Well, Severus, I am going up to the cottage to take off my wet clothes. I may or may not be replacing them with dry ones. Are you coming to find out, or staying here with your feet in the sand?"

He gave her a look that implied she was a particularly tasty meal that he was especially hungry for, and her tummy turned over at his obvious desire for her, as it always did.

"I am coming," he muttered, slipping his arm around her waist, oblivious of the wet material of her dress, and guided them towards the cliff path that led up to their haven.

\- xxx –

Much later on, after Severus had slowly stripped her of her damp clothes in the living room and taken her tenderly but urgently on the sofa, followed by an afternoon nap in the sun-filled bedroom, they were showered, dressed, and ready to leave for the Burrow. They had decided against using the Floo, as since he had never been a guest of the Weasleys before, it seemed moderately rude to Floo into their kitchen. Not that being rude had ever troubled him before now, but he knew how important the evening was to Hermione. They planned instead to apparate to the garden gate and enter via a knock at the door.

He had resolutely refused to wear anything but his normal black, but even he, with all his social inadequacies, could see that to wear full teaching robes for an informal kitchen supper was pushing the boundaries of acceptability.

Hermione had shopped in Twilfitt and Tatting's during the week and purchased him a lightweight black jumper in the softest cashmere, which he wore over his shirt that was unbuttoned at the neck, without a cravat. He wore his normal black trousers and boots, and of course the glamour to his scar was firmly in place. He still looked like himself, just slightly more ... relaxed.

She, of course, looked amazing in a simple knee-length summer dress with a print of pink tea-roses all over, her hair pulled back at the temples but otherwise loose, and some matching high-heeled shoes that he was looking forward to her _not removing_ later.

They swished their travelling cloaks around them and apparated to the gate of the Burrow.

There was a long table outside the slightly tumbledown house that was covered in a scarlet tablecloth and groaning with crockery, cutlery and glassware. He could see several unidentified male redheads milling around outside in the evening summer sunshine, with a group of witches among them, passing around what appeared to be an strikingly ginger baby.

He presumed the females would be the wives and partners of the Weasley sons, and the infant was no doubt the illegitimate spawn of the youngest, Ronald, that Hermione had told him about.

" _Keah_ ," she reminded him in a hoarse whisper as they approached the group.

"Thank _you_ ," he replied, for of course he had indeed forgotten the name of the child.

Heads began to turn to look at them both as they drew nearer, and he was nearly overcome with relief when he felt Hermione's arm link with his own in a gesture of quiet pride and possession that both reassured and delighted him.

"Sir? It's good to see you."

A dark-haired man amongst the sea of red had stepped away from the group and was extending his hand towards Severus. With his familiar glasses, unruly hair and slightly sheepish expression, Harry Potter was instantly recognisable, however his calm demeanour, solid handshake, and deferential respect towards his admittedly hated former professor spoke volumes about the maturity he had gained. Lily's child was now clearly a man, and he felt a wholly unexpected stab of pride in the boy he had _thought_ he despised.

"Potter. I had not expected that we would meet again."

Both wizards looked each other in the eye as they shook hands, a gesture that had not passed between them since Severus had clutched hold of the front of Harry's robes in the Shrieking Shack as he lay dying, his life blood spewing from his neck.

"Well, me neither," Harry replied, "but I am very glad to have the chance to thank you."

Severus held up his hand to halt Harry's gratitude.

"There is no need for thanks. That time has passed; my actions were the result of the debt I owed to ... _both_ your parents."

"Then let us move forward, Sir. Hermione has told me how happy the two of you are."

"We do indeed find ourselves ... most _content_ , Mr Potter."

They both nodded slowly at one another. It would be a long time before conversation flowed freely between the two of them, but they had just made an initial start.

Ronald came bustling over, his hands for once free of baby, so he had occupied them with a goblet of wine in one and a pre-dinner sandwich in the other.

"Alright, Hermione?" he asked her casually, planting a sticky kiss on her cheek which she immediately wiped off, Severus was childishly pleased to note.

"Alright ... Sir?"

He seemed to be fumbling over how to address his former professor. Severus decided not to put the weasel out of his misery just at that moment.

"Thank you, Mr Weasley, I find myself very much, _all right_."

"Well, um. That's good then. Go and get drinks. Mum's laid it all out on the kitchen table, we're eating out here but the drinks are inside so the bloody gnomes don't snaffle any. Hermione, you know where everything is."

He gestured vaguely towards the open door of the Burrow, before moving away to where the witches were cooing over his daughter.

Severus felt a light tug on his arm as Hermione began to pull him towards the door to the house, so he nodded to the Weasleys he had not greeted yet, and entered the kitchen, which was a sight to behold, festooned with platters of food in every conceivable space. Hermione picked up two bottles of cold butterbeer and passed him one, and whilst he'd have preferred a large goblet of wine, she was right in starting off slowly. Tonight was not an occasion to be drunk, or even slightly tipsy.

"Severus!" exclaimed Molly in surprise, in the midst of stirring something on the stove top.

He was not convinced by her show, if he knew Molly Weasley, _and he did_ , she'd have noted their arrival from the first crack of apparition by her garden gate.

"Molly."

The two former Order colleagues stood sizing each other up for a short while, unspeaking, with neutral looks upon their faces, each waiting for the other to speak first. It was becoming awkward, before Hermione spoke up.

"Molly. Thank you so much for inviting us here this evening. I'm hoping it can be ... a new start, of sorts."

Molly heard her, but instead gave _him_ a suspicious glance that would not have looked out of place on Dolores Umbridge.

"That remains to be seen, Hermione. But you are welcome here this evening. _Both_ of you," she emphasised, gesturing towards Severus with her wooden spoon.

She turned back to the stove, signalling that the brief conversation was over. Hermione gave him another tug to guide him back out towards the garden.

"Ouch," she whispered, "friendlier out here, I think."

As they walked into the garden Bill and Fleur approached them, greeting both Severus and Hermione with firm handshakes (Bill) and effusive kisses on both cheeks (Fleur). Both had been adult members of the Order of the Phoenix during the last few years, and he suspected it was in these two that he would find his greatest allies amongst the present company. William Weasley was a broad-minded, sensible and fair wizard, who in his time had been an excellent Head Boy, despite being a bloody Gryffindor.

"Severus, my friend, it's good to see you," Bill said, his extensively scarred face beaming with a broad, genuine smile.

"It makes me very happy to see you looking so well, William," Severus replied, crooking his mouth in an approximation of a smile, which still didn't come easy to him, even after all these months of practice.

Bill was about to reply, before they were interrupted by George physically bouncing between them and lifting Hermione into a huge bear hug, spinning her around.

"My favourite little swot! How are you, princess?"

She had laughed and told him she was very well, and could he _please_ put her down?

George then turned his attentions on Severus, clasping his upper arm with one hand whilst enthusiastically shaking his hand with the other.

"Severus! Hope you don't mind me calling you that, Sir, but since you're sleeping with our honorary little sister, you've lost your title. You'll just be Sev to us from now on."

He shot Severus a saucy wink, much to the amusement of Fleur and Hermione.

"For fucks sake, George," muttered Bill, "watch that mouth of yours, will you?"

Severus surprised them all by smiling in amusement at the irrepressible exuberance, and cheek, of the remaining twin.

"Thank you, George. Severus will be perfectly acceptable. Is that Miss Johnson I see over there? Have the two of you finally married?"

No one looked more surprised than George as he began to converse freely with his former teacher about his engagement and impending marriage to Angelina Johnson, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. As least some of the Weasleys appeared to be accepting her unconventional choice of partner.

"Relieved, Hermione?" Bill said quietly, just loud enough for herself and Fleur to hear.

"Bless 'zat George! 'Ee can get on so lovely with just about anybody!"

Fleur smiled indulgently in the direction of her brother in law, now dragging Severus by the arm across to the group that contained Angelina, along with Ron and Keah, and a small, pinched-faced girl with old-fashioned hair that Hermione guessed to be Percy's girlfriend, although she knew nothing about her, not even her name. She wondered where Charlie was, whether he was home yet.

"I am a bit, yes," she replied, "It wasn't easy getting Severus to come here, and George is exactly what he needs to make him feel a bit more comfortable."

"Cheeky little shit, he is," Bill grinned, taking a long swig of the cold bottle he held in his hand, "always been the same."

"Is Charlie back yet?"

"Oh, he's back."

"But, where ...?"

"Is he? Currently on his fourth shag of the day; if my estimations are correct."

Fleur wrinkled her dainty nose and tossed her silvery-blonde hair.

"Eet is ... _cochon_ , _degueulasse_ ," she added, crossly, slipping into French with annoyance.

"Bill and I, we did not do such be'aviour in zis 'ouse! In Molly's 'ouse!"

Hermione looked at Bill, questioningly. It was well known and publicised that pre-marital sex was not permitted at the Burrow.

"Charlie gets away with stuff the rest of us would have been killed for. Probably because Mum rarely sees him from one year to the next, and she's always worrying that he'll meet a fiery death by one of his dragons. Ah, speak of the devil."

She turned, and saw Charlie sauntering out of the house, his build rugged and his skin scarred and weather-beaten. His long, curly red hair was pulled back into a sort of untidy knot at the back of his head, and he was hand-in-hand with a beautiful witch, whose long dark hair had a red streak at the front to match Charlie's, and the most amazingly wide blue eyes that Hermione had ever seen.

They approached Bill, Fleur and Hermione, and it was clear that Bill's guess had most probably been not far off the mark, as Charlie's shirt was buttoned incorrectly, revealing a dragon tattoo on his left pectoral.

"Blimey, Hermione," Charlie exclaimed by way of greeting, looking her up and down, "You've grown up a bit since I last saw you."

"War and the general passing of time tends to do that," she replied, drily.

He appraised her shrewdly, as if sensing that Hermione was a woman not to be trifled with, nor still a little girl to patronise.

"It does indeed," he replied, slowly, taking his time over the words. "This is Becka. She works at the dragon sanctuary with me in Romania."

Hermione held out her hand which the girl shook gladly.

"I'm his boss," she revealed, grinning wickedly at her boyfriend, "I outrank him in every department."

Charlie looked sheepish.

"Good to meet you," Hermione said to her, thinking she liked this Becka already, if she could take down the great Charlie Weasley with one sentence.

"And what did _you_ bring?" Charlie drawled, flicking his eyes across to Severus and back, alight with mischief and a desire for salacious gossip.

" _Tccchhh_ , Charleee!" chided Fleur, "You really 'ave no manners at all! You are az bad az 'zat George!"

"I brought my fiancé, Charlie. Severus. You know him."

"Indeed I do know the good professor. Many a time he had me in detention at Hogwarts. Not quite so much as Fred and George, but still, enough. So, tell me, how often does he give _you_ detention?"

Hermione flushed scarlet, thinking of times when she'd fantasised about the exact same thing, and most particularly the time he had fucked her without mercy across his desk. _Merlin_ , she was glad that neither Bill nor Charlie nor Fleur were a Legilimens!

Charlie began to laugh at his own joke, encouraging the others to join in, and it annoyed her.

"Plenty, actually," she retorted, without thinking, "Dirty professor and naughty student are one of our favourite games to play."

She was gratified to see both Charlie and Bill drop their bottles in shock, whilst Fleur gave her an amused, supportive smile, and Becka let rip with a guffaw of full-bodied laughter, before clapping Hermione on the arm in congratulation.

Severus left his group and walked over to her soon after that, she was standing alone.

"Are you doing ok?" she whispered to him.

"Adequately," he replied. "Percy Weasley really is the most pompous arse I have ever met. Just the same as he was in school. The mousy-looking girl is his fiancée, Audrey I believe her name is. Does something terribly dull at the Ministry."

"She does? I've never heard of her, or seen her before."

"Does she look like the kind of gregarious witch who socialises freely?"

"I suppose not. Is she nice?"

"I have no idea. Weasley has yet to allow her a word in. She's been cooing over that baby, which I must tell you, Hermione, is most dreadfully ugly."

"Severus! You can't say that!"

"I believe I just did."

" _All_ babies are beautiful," she told him.

" _Your_ baby would be as beautiful as Nimue herself," he told her, in a low rumble that she felt in her gut, as usual, stopping her in her tracks before she reached full flow about whether or not it was socially acceptable to tell the truth that an infant was ugly.

"You do realise, that given our agreement to bond, that any baby of mine would also be _your_ child?"

She couldn't help laughing at the expression of complete and utter shock that passed over his face, clearly demonstrating that he had not yet made that connection. His eyes had widened and his mouth had dropped open like a fish, rather unattractively.

"I confess I had not given _that_ any thought," he replied, quietly.

"It is not something that needs to be thought about now," she told him, rubbing the sides of his arms in a soothing gesture, "But in the future, when we are settled and older, I would like to think we would at least consider it?"

He couldn't answer her. His mind was racing too fast and he was wondering if he was about have a heart attack, right there on the lawn of the Weasleys' garden.

She leaned forward and kissed the tip of his long nose, indicating that she did not need an answer from him, despite the fact he had a thousand answers currently on a rampaging death spiral inside his head, none of them of right, most of them questions.

He, Severus Snape, a _father_?

He had never in his life thought _that_ could bethe remotest possibility.


	53. Chapter 53

**Chapter 53**

They were seated at the long table outside the Burrow in the early-evening sunshine, the weather providing a perfect summer backdrop to a convivial family supper. Hermione had managed to manoeuvre herself between Harry and Severus at one end; all three of them feeling a little like outsiders in the sea of red-headed Weasleys.

Ron was the other side of Harry at the head of the table, justifying his position by arguing that he needed extra space next to him for Keah's highchair. Severus had Angelina and then George next to him, which she was grateful for, with Bill and Fleur opposite. She was somewhat relieved that Arthur and Molly were at the other end of the food-laden table, Mrs Weasley giving all of her attention to the oft-absent Charlie.

The meal had gone smoothly so far, but Hermione couldn't help feeling that this was an evening to be endured, rather than enjoyed. She felt Severus' anxiety radiating from him in nervous waves, despite his outwardly cool demeanour. The main course had been completed and plates cleared, before an array of desserts made their way from the kitchen on hovering platters, arranging themselves down the centre of the table. The Weasley boys all tucked right in, really, all six of them had stomachs like bottomless pits.

Fleur had announced her first pregnancy to the genuine delight of the whole family, George and Angelina had confirmed the date of their bonding ceremony, and Molly had made both Percy and Audrey blush by asking when she could expect the same news from _them_. Arthur had told her to leave them be, to which Molly, slightly wine-soaked, had crossly retorted that a bonding was _always_ good news, and not to fuss with her.

"I'm glad you feel that way, Mother, because Hermione and Severus are engaged to be bonded too," George shot down the table in a loud voice, before shovelling in another large mouthful of treacle tart.

There was a light flutter of applause around the table which soon abated once everyone caught sight of the thunderous look on Molly's face.

"How ridiculous, George! Of course they're not. This ..." and she flourished her hand towards where Hermione and Severus were sitting, "This is a just a little ... _thing_ they both need to get out of their systems. I mean! It's not as if they're _serious_."

The whole table fell silent. From her reddened cheeks, it was clear that Molly's outburst was being fuelled by the copious amounts of elf-made wine she had been guzzling like water, but nonetheless those thoughts must have been in her head in the first place, to be loosened by the wine.

"Now, Molly, dear ..." Arthur began, placing a conciliatory hand upon his wife's arm.

"No, its fine, Arthur," Hermione told him in a loud, clear, no-nonsense tone that both Harry and Ron recognised well, and they both became incredibly interested in their plates.

"Thank you for sharing your opinion, but I must tell you, all of you, that Severus and I are extremely serious, and that we are indeed engaged to be bonded at a date to suit us, not that it is anyone's business but our own."

She was slightly flushed in annoyance.

" _Severus_ , eh?" Charlie drawled to his mother, who was sitting on his left side, trying to rile her further.

"Shouldn't she still be addressing him as _Professor Snape,_ or _Sir_? Or maybe she _does_ ... ?"

Charlie raised his eyebrows in a disgustingly lascivious manner and licked his lips. Hermione wanted to throw the entire platter of treacle tart down the table and into his smug face, but was saved from doing so by the deep, measured tones of her wizard.

"I would thank you, Mr Weasley, not to cast speculation on the private relationship between myself and my fiancée."

Severus took a small sip of wine, placing the goblet back on the table and not removing his fiery black gaze from Charlie, who had the grace to look slightly awkward, and raised a hand to signify; _no offence, mate_.

Molly however, was just building up to full flow. Her sons began to shrink back into their seats, which was almost comical behaviour from six fully grown adult men.

"Your _fiancée_!" she scoffed, "This girl is no more your fiancée than Ronald is!"

Ron looked up from his plate in disgust.

"Hey! Mum, leave me out of this please, that's gross."

Molly pointedly ignored him. He was irrelevant to her right at that moment, for she had something to say and _by Merlin_ she was going to say it. She pointed an accusing finger right at Severus.

"You, Severus Snape, are a disgusting excuse for a wizard. Is it not enough that you've corrupted an innocent young witch into doing ... goodness knows what, with you, but now you've got her thinking it's all hearts, flowers, marriage and babies? What a preposterous notion!"

"Really, Madam?" Severus asked her, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers beneath his chin with a confidence that Hermione was certain he did not feel, "and why should it be preposterous?"

Molly looked flabbergasted that he had dared to answer her back. There was an almost audible inhalation of breath from the male Weasleys as they waited to see if their mother's head might actually leave her shoulders in anger. Seriously, one of these man-children needed to grow a pair.

"You need it spelled out, do you, Snape? Fine, I'll be happy to. Hermione Granger is an innocent girl or rather _was_ , before you got your sleazy, evil hands on her. I can't imagine what lies you spun her to encourage her into your bed, but it stops now, do you hear me? You are twenty years older than her, and her professor. It is disgusting!"

Hermione heard him take a slow, deep breath to control himself before answering.

"Whether or not Hermione is or was an innocent is none of your business, and certainly not the business of anyone sat at this table. I have told her no lies of any kind; in fact she may well be the only person in the entire world to whom I have ever entrusted the truth. Yes, we have a large age difference between us, which I will not pretend is not a concern to me, but Hermione insists it is of no consequence to her. And _her_ opinion is the only one I find of any importance. I am also no longer her professor, nor was I when our relationship began. Now, unless you have any further questions, or comment to make, I should like to finish my dessert, which is delicious by the way, thank you."

Hermione could have jumped on him right there and then and kissed him senseless in admiration, but decided that would not be the optimum course of action with the present friction pregnant in the very air around them. Arthur was whispering urgently in his wife's ear, probably trying to calm her tirade, and she hoped rather than believed he would be successful.

Severus had taken no more than two mouthfuls of pudding when Molly started up again.

"What about Ron?" she screamed out, in a distraught tone.

Everyone looked up.

"What about me?" Ron blushed scarlet and spoke through a mouthful of food, which he was shovelling in with one hand, and holding Keah in the other arm.

"You, and little Keah there!"

Hermione was the fastest to cotton on to what she was insinuating.

"Molly, are you suggesting that you harbour hopes that Ron and I would get back together, and I that I would raise Keah as my own?" she asked, incredulous, but knowing that she was exactly right.

Molly gave her a pleading look.

"Ron loves you! He always has, Hermione. How can you do this to him, with everything he's been through? That poor little girl. She needs a mother."

Hermione looked at Ron, and their eyes met. He looked heartily embarrassed and as if he would rather be anywhere else. He shook his head imperceptibly and she knew at once this had not come from him. She took her napkin from her lap and laid it next to her unfinished trifle, knowing she was unlikely to be seated at the table for much longer.

"Ron loves me, as a best friend. Just as I love him. We are not compatible in a romantic sense, and I don't think for one minute that he thinks I am the kind of witch who would stay at home and raise his daughter. Furthermore, you insult your son by suggesting that he is not a good enough father to raise Keah by himself."

She turned and looked at Ron, who was tenderly stroking his daughter's hand.

"My friend is doing an excellent job after a horrendous experience. I am so proud of him, and you should be too!"

"Don't you dare tell me how I should feel about my son!"

"Why not? You have told Severus and I how we ought, or ought not, to feel about each other," she challenged, facing Molly square in the eye with calm defiance.

There was silence for a few moments.

"I think that it is time you left," Molly said, in a quieter tone.

"I agree with you there," Hermione replied, getting to her feet and touching Severus on the shoulder.

"No. Not you, Hermione. Just him. You have done nothing wrong other than be seduced by his lies. I could never bear the man when we were in the Order together and I don't see why I should now, in my own home."

"If Severus has to leave, then so do I."

Severus got to his feet and the two of them prepared to leave the table.

"No!"

A loud male voice came from the end of the table and everyone looked for the source.

"No," Arthur said, more quietly now he had everyone's attention.

"If Hermione leaves now, Molly, it is unlikely she will ever return. Is that what you want? Do we really want to lose any more children? Because that is what Hermione, and you too, Harry, are to us. There has been enough loss. Let there not be any more."

Every member of the Weasley family looked at their father, so often content to let his wife be the mouthpiece, but clearly not this time.

"Sit down, Hermione, Severus. You are welcome in our home, _both_ of you. Your relationship is unusual, but not unacceptable. I wish you both every happiness. Merlin knows there has been precious little of it the last few years."

The silence was deafening.

Charlie was the first to find his voice.

"Hear, hear, Dad!" He raised his flagon of mead high in the air, "To the Weasleys, the new generation, and the friends we consider our family."

"I'll drink to that," muttered Bill, loudly, grabbing up his own tankard and downing the contents.

A ripple of agreement ran down the table and everyone was nodding their agreement and taking great gulps from their drinks, even Fleur with her pumpkin juice. Ron took a big swig and dropped some butterbeer on Keah, whom he was still holding. She laughed; the most innocent, beguiling giggle that had ever been heard.

Ron looked up and Hermione and Severus, who were still standing.

"Sit down, you pair of prats. There's drinking to be done."

Molly Weasley rose from her end of the table and stalked into the house, slamming the door with a bang behind her.

"She'll be fine," Arthur reassured, taking a long gulp from his own ale, and hoping that no one would notice the sweat on his brow that had collected there during the showdown with his fearsome wife.

His sweating brow, however, was nothing compared to that of his sixth son, who had just realised, through his beer-fugged haze, that he had just addressed Professor Snape as a _prat_ , and surprisingly lived to tell the tale.

\- xxx –

Tales and tall stories were shared; most of them by Charlie and Becka, their adventurous life in the dragon sanctuary infinitely fascinating, until the sun disappeared behind the hill and darkness fell over the garden. Arthur conjured strings of glowing faerie lights to twinkle around them, giving both a gentle light and a pleasant ambience to the still-warm summer night.

George had brought out the large magical wireless from the sitting room and had tuned it to a wizarding radio station playing decent music, not a bit of Celestina Warbeck to be heard. He and Angelina had pranced around for a while, trying to goad the other couples into joining them on the 'dance floor', in truth a piece of threadbare grass, but when they were unsuccessful they opted just to amuse themselves, less dancing and mostly snogging whilst swaying side to side.

Hermione smiled. It was good to see George happy, he had, after all, lost just a little more than every other Weasley when Fred had been killed. She found herself looking forward to his and Angelina's bonding ceremony, to which they had just been invited, very much.

As the evening wore on, Molly had made her way back to the party without fuss or fanfare, initially coming down to collect Keah from her slightly sozzled father and put her to bed, and after that returning to Arthur, and her wine. She said nothing further on the subject she had begun, but instead watched her children indulgently as she drank and began to relax again.

"What a shame for you, Harry, that Ginny couldn't make it home!"

The surprised look on Harry's face followed by a brief, non-committal smile, told Hermione it was news to _him_ that Ginny had not yet told her mother they had split up. He and Ron were sat with Hermione and Severus near the end of the table, their chairs slightly turned to watch the dancers.

"Harry?" she began, raising her eyebrow at him questioningly.

"Not now, Hermione. I'll sort it," he replied, warningly.

"Sort what?" grunted Ron, in a voice slurred from a little too much alcohol.

"Never you mind," Harry teased, "Stop being nosey, or I'll drag you up to dance, since we are the only ones here without partners."

"Touch me and I'll cut your wand off," Ron retorted, which made Hermione laugh and Severus smirk.

Harry turned to them.

"What about you two? Are you going to take our Hermione for a dance, Sir?"

Severus fixed his old nemesis with a good-natured but still pretty intimidating black stare.

"I do not _dance_ , Mr Potter, however lovely the partner."

He reached over and took Hermione's hand, gently stoking her palm so that she did not think she was being rejected as well as the notion of dancing.

She accepted the gesture, but a quizzical look crossed over face.

"But, hold on. You must be able to dance."

"And how do you reach such an assumption?"

"The Yule Ball. Professor McGonagall took all the Gryffindors for ballroom dance lessons. I know Professor Sprout taught Hufflepuff, because Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones told me. Therefore ..."

"Therefore?" he answered, deliberately feigning ignorance.

"You taught the Slytherins didn't you?" Ron burst out; spraying crumbs of the cake he was eating out of his mouth with a guffaw of laughter.

"You showed Draco- _bloody_ -Malfoy how to waltz!"

"I doubt Draco was the problem, Ron, can you imagine trying to teach Crabbe and Goyle?" Harry chimed in, snickering.

Hermione looked at Severus, wondering how he was going to react to the teasing. Good-natured teasing, but still teasing, all the same. He hated ridicule.

He pushed his chair back from the table, and remaining seated, slumped a little against the strong wooden back of the chair, assuming a more languid, relaxed position with his elbows on the armrests. He eyed the three of them in turn, amused by the interested glints in their eyes. Rolling his head to stretch out his stiff neck, he gave them what they wanted.

"If you must know, and being three highly irritating Gryffindors, I am certain that you _must_ , yes, the task of _preparing_ the Slytherins for the Yule Ball did indeed fall to me."

Hermione, Ron and Harry's lips all twitched in amusement.

"I'd like to see that."

He turned to her with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

"I am sure you would, Miss Granger," he replied, drawing out his syllables.

"Don't you call her Hermione?" Ron looked disgusted, despite his inebriation.

"I call her ... _many_ things, Mr Weasley," Severus teased.

Harry and Ron chose that moment to take their leave from the table and head inside for more drinks. She leaned forward and rested her hands on his forearm.

"I meant it. I'd really like to see that memory. We've used that pensieve for enough bad memories; its about time we actually enjoyed ourselves using it."

" _You_ would enjoy it. I doubt very much that _I_ would."

"I could make it worth your while?" she grinned, cheekily.

"Now, I believe, we may be in a position to discuss a deal."

He shifted so that his posture was relaxed and open in the chair.

"Come and sit on my lap and we shall make the arrangements."

She looked around her to see what everyone else was up to. Molly and Arthur were deep in conversation with Fleur, no doubt talking babies and pregnancy, George and Angelina were still dancing, and surprisingly, so were Percy and Audrey. She could see Harry and Ron in the kitchen drinking from dubious-looking black bottles, and Bill was at the doorway, looking somewhat unsteady on his feet. Keah had been put to bed, now, who was missing?

"If you are looking for the dragon wrangler and his wide-eyed witch, they disappeared behind that building over twenty minutes ago," he drawled, indicating the chicken sheds at the far end of the Burrow garden.

"No one is the slightest bit interested in you and I," he told her, tugging gently on her wrist so that she stood, and pulled her onto his lap, ensuring her legs were modestly together over one side of his, and drew her close enough so that he could whisper hypnotically in her ear.

"If you desire to see the memory of the dance instruction of your Slytherin cohorts, then you shall see it. However, my price is that we leave this soiree now, so that I can do what I have been thinking about for the past two hours."

"And what is that you have been thinking about doing?" she asked, mock-innocently.

"Pushing inside you," he growled, softly, "Hard, fast and deep."

She felt his cock twitch beneath her bum as it sat on his lap.

"Shall I thank our hosts for a lovely evening?"

"Witch, do it _now_."

\- xxx –

They were outside the wide garden gate of the Burrow having spent far longer than Severus would have preferred saying their goodbyes. Molly had been cool but polite, and Hermione suspected that they had not heard the last of Mrs Weasley's opinion on their relationship, but the evening had ended on a peaceful note, so that was at least one thing to be grateful for.

"Will you allow me to apparate us both?" he enquired, "I have ... an idea."

No sooner than she had nodded her consent, he had thrown the billowing furl of his travelling cloak around her, disapparating them both with an obnoxiously loud crack, no doubt for the benefit of those who were pretending not to be watching the new couple in their midst.

They landed in a dark wooded forest copse, and she heard twigs cracking under their feet as they landed.

"Where are we?" she asked him, barely able to make out his face from the thin strand of moonlight threading through the branches above.

"This is the forest into which we apparated when we first visited my barn, do you remember?"

"I do. I also remember snogging you here."

"And I remember having to curtail our activities in order to meet the estate agent."

"That we did," she grinned.

"I should like to resume those activities where we left off, Hermione. You are a witch and I am a wizard, as magical beings we are naturally attuned to the energy of the earth and living things around us. Can you feel it?"

She felt a bit silly, wondering exactly what she was supposed to be feeling.

He drew his wand and cast a protective ward and Notice-Me-Not spell around them, and then a Divesto at them both, removing every stitch of clothing, including their shoes, leaving them clad in nothing but their long, black travelling cloaks.

He returned his wand to the inner pocket of his cloak, and stepped towards her, lifting his hand to her hair and pushing his long fingers through her curls. He knew, having been raised as a muggle, that it was unlikely she knew much of elemental magicks.

"Feel," he told her, hoarsely, "Feel the power of the earth magick through the soles of your feet. You are a witch; you will draw energy from the earth."

He dipped his head and touched his lips to her mouth, sliding his hand around to the back of her head to pull her into him so that he could hold her in place, his kiss increasing in passion as he felt her open her mouth against his and the slick of her little tongue requesting entrance. He would never deny her.

He snaked his other arm around her waist and began to kiss her, hard and open-mouthed, rolling their tongues together again and again until she began to pant against his mouth.

"Do you feel the magick here?" he asked.

"I do," she breathed, slipping her hands between the opening folds of his robes and caressing the bare skin of his chest and abdomen. He groaned in bliss at her touch, feeling utterly at one with her, and with his own not-inconsiderable magical power that was being grounded and intensified by the earth.

He reached to the clasp of her travelling cloak at her neck and unfastened it.

"Trust me," he instructed, "No one can see us; no one can hear us, no one can touch us. We are completely protected."

He felt her relax at his words, and he laid her black robe on the ground and shot a wandless cushioning charm at it, before helping her to lie down in the centre of it. She looked like every fantasy he'd ever had come true, a nubile young witch laid naked on a forest floor, lit by a beam of white moonlight, abundant hair flowing, ready and waiting for _him_.

He knelt over her, straddling her hips and enveloping them both in his voluminous cloak. Returning his lips to hers he continued to kiss her, enjoying how she immediately brought her hand to his neck, touching him, and pushing her small hands deliciously into his hair. This witch, _this witch_ , what she did to him, he had never felt anything like it in his whole miserable life.

She moved her hands to the clasp of his robe, undoing it and giving it a gentle tug so it fell from his back in one slippery move, baring them both to the ambient night air. He had a vision of how their bodies must look, moving together naked on the forest floor in the ghostly glow of the moon, and felt his cock harden in response.

Fearing that he may lose control of the _situation_ rather sooner than he would like due to the powerful earth magick girding his loins, he moved down her body, pausing to draw a firm breast far into his mouth, suckling and pulling at her succulent nipple before transferring his attentions to the other.

He could feel her writhing beneath him in arousal and anticipation and he loved it. She was obviously as affected by the thrum of the earth magick as he was. He continued his path down her body, kissing and licking at her soft stomach, running his tongue down her hip bones, as she pushed herself upwards, her body betraying her longing for his touch.

"Easy," he whispered, pushing her legs apart and seeing his prize spread out before him.

"Easy, my darling. I've got you."

She let out a moan in response as he lowered his mouth to her, he would not keep his witch waiting. He pushed his tongue between her folds, licking his way between her labia, and he tasted her wet arousal, her desire for him. He used his hands to open her fully, enjoying the intoxicating sound of her fevered groan as he exposed her most sensitive parts to the cool night air.

" _Severus_ ," he heard her pant, and yet another jolt hit his burgeoning erection, he could feel the pre-cum dripping from the tip.

He addressed the matter in hand. He thrust his tongue hard into her vagina, probing it in and out as if he was fucking her with it, before sweeping up towards her clitoris, sucking the small bud into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the tip once he had it captured. She grabbed his long hair involuntarily, before letting go and throwing her hands to the sides, feeling the twigs and grass and earth beneath them, clearly drawing power from the earth magick coursing there.

When she came it would be explosive. He began to whirl his tongue around her cunt, hitting every sweet spot he knew, pushing her towards the orgasm he needed and wanted her to have. As he suckled on her clit he felt her begin to come, her abdomen heaving with release, so he sat back on his heels and began to tweak the clitoris between his fingers, knowing that with the earth magick in her veins a multiple orgasm would be easy.

She put up very little resistance beyond an exclamation of _Oh, Merlin_!

He kept her labia held open as he titillated her swollen clit with his wicked fingers, pulling at it gently, tapping on the top. He used another finger to lightly tickle her urethral opening, not caring that it caused a dribble of piss to escape. It was just a sign of how much she was letting go to him, how she was placing her power in his hands. The thought was just _too fucking arousing_.

"Come on, little witch, come for me," he hissed, urgently, speeding up his fingers until there was nothing she could do but shake with her second orgasm as he masturbated her hard little clit, flooding his hands as she lost control, leonine growls of ecstasy coming from her throat. _Fuck_ , she was _too much_.

He withdrew his hands and quickly insinuated his hips between her legs, pushing his painfully throbbing and over-aroused cock inside her, feeling the clench of her tight hole and the still-spasming walls of her luscious little cunt begin to milk it. He would not last long; it wasn't possible in the face of her extreme provocation.

" _My_ witch," he moaned, now level with her beautiful face again as he thrust into her as hard and as deep and as fast as he had promised her earlier.

"My amazing Hermione. Please say we will always be like this."

She clutched his shoulders.

"We always will, Severus. Always like this."

She pushed down on his shoulders, and began to circle her hips, pushing him harder and faster.

"My love. You are my love. You are ... _ungghhh_!"

His declaration was cut off as he began to orgasm, coming into her in hot spurts, snapping his hips against her until he could physically take no more. He fell to her side on the cushioned cloak, both lying upon the forest floor as they regained their breath, dispersing the excess magick that was coursing through their veins.

\- xxx –

Hermione sat at her desk in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures on Monday morning, already having been the recipient of one flicked ball of parchment from Esther as warning to _take the stupid look off her face_ as she thought about her and Severus' encounter in the forest instead of focusing on her work.

She fought to look diligent and attentive as she remembered how they had apparated separately back to the barn, since the porch was only built to receive one person, and it was a snug fit at that. They could have simply walked down the road, but decided against this being as they were clad only in cloaks and had no shoes.

Once they were both inside they headed straight for the sleigh bed upstairs, pulling off their cloaks and falling into the soft sheets together, stroking and kissing. Neither felt up to another round of lovemaking, the magical intensity from the forest had exhausted them both, but the sheer joy of physically touching was something they both had yet to tire of.

It had been Sunday night before Hermione had remembered that she had left her work clothes and bag at the seaside cottage, necessitating a quick trip via the Floo to collect the missing items.

She was nudged from her reverie by the angsty young post-wizard delivering the mail, throwing the items received by owl in the main ministry Post Room onto the correct desks. She began to sift through the parchments she had received, when she noticed Pridmore Ulbrecht stalking through the office towards herself and Esther, brandishing a letter in his hands that he must have just received.

"A list of all the werewolves who have refused to sign up to the Ministry Wolfsbane programme," he told them, tossing the parchment on to Esther's desk.

"Esther, can you and Hermione send the details of all our registered werewolves _not_ on this list to St Mungo's, as they are going to oversee the administration of the Wolfsbane."

"Sure, Pridmore," Esther replied in the bored tone she reserved especially for him, picking up the list and giving it a cursory look, "and the ones _on_ the list?"

"They have refused to take Wolfsbane and hence remain subject to Ministry regulation and control," he replied, simply.

"They would prefer to be dangerous werewolves once a month?" Hermione was incredulous, although she was asking the question to Pridmore's retreating back.

"Have a look at the list, darling," Esther replied, "that should answer your question."

She took the offered parchment and began to read. They did not seem to be in any kind of logical order. Top of the list was _Greyback, Fenrir_. He had _survived_ and was _not_ in Azkaban? A cold shudder of fear ran through her as she remembered her dealings with the terrifying werewolf, who so loved his savage lupine form that he retained wolfish characteristics even when not transformed. It was indeed unsurprising that Greyback would not agree to take Wolfsbane, his lust for blood was so strong.

She ran down the haphazard, disorderly list with her finger; _Allen, Elias_ followed by _Robbs, Charles._

All the names were unfamiliar to her apart from Greyback; however she realised these were the werewolves living wild, living rough, living Merlin-knows-how. The only ones who enjoyed their transformation, the fear it invoked, the power it gave them, and were unwilling to relinquish that to sign up to the Wolfsbane programme.

Her finger stopped at the same time as her heart as she reached a name. A name she had come to know very well over the last few months.

 _Bergin, David._


	54. Chapter 54

**Please accept my hugest apologies to have not updated in over a month. Real Life completely and totally took over – but I'm back now and normal service is now resumed. You can always go back and re-read to refresh yourself! I'm so sorry. Pouf x**

 **Chapter 54**

Hermione and Esther rushed through the corridors of St Mungo's, having left the office as soon as the lunch hour had begun, to come and speak with Caspar Bergin about his son. They had been directed to his office by a bored-looking witch at the arrivals desk, and Esther rapped smartly on the door as they reached it.

Caspar opened the door almost as soon she knocked, as if he had known they were approaching, and ushered them inside in a somewhat urgent manner. He sat down behind his desk and motioned for the two witches to sit in the chairs opposite. They gasped in shock as they noticed the deep gash on the older wizard's face, looking fresh and sore. He met their eyes for the first time since they entered, knowing that they were looking at his injury.

"Let us just say," he said at length, "That my son has recently made known his feelings about his lycanthropy being hidden away for so many years."

"I don't understand," Hermione answered, "The repealing of the laws restricting him meant that life was going to get better, not worse, surely?"

"You would think so," replied Caspar, with a humourless smile.

Hermione and Esther looked at one another in confusion, which did not escape Casper's keen eye, and he hastened to explain.

"David was bitten as a young teenager, after a wonderfully free childhood, and having completed his first year at Hogwarts. He was a proud Ravenclaw, always having been such a clever, studious boy, and he loved being away at school. However, after he was attacked, which was during the summer holidays, my wife and I made the decision to withdraw him from Hogwarts and educate him at home, to keep himself and others safe. I could administer his Wolfsbane from the hospital supplies and train him in Potions so that he could work here with me when he was old enough."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but was pre-empted by Caspar raising his hand to halt her.

"I know what you are going to say, Miss Granger. I know that Remus Lupin attended Hogwarts. But he was the only one, either before or since, and a great many safeguards were put in place to protect him and others. I did not want David to be so high-profile; I wanted him to be able to live a normal life. David now tells me that he feels he has been oppressed, restricted, locked-up, kept prisoner. By me!"

"I'm sorry, Caspar," Esther said, simply.

He shrugged.

"We only ever try to do the best for our children. My wife and I thought we were doing the right thing, keeping David safe, teaching him a trade, ensuring he was never registered, and a good thing too with the laws that were passed whilst Dolores Umbridge was in charge!"

"Have there been any repercussions from you not declaring his status?" Hermione could not help asking.

"There won't be," Esther answered on Caspar's behalf, "The werewolf laws were proved to be unjust and therefore repealed, so Caspar could argue that he had the right to oppose an unjust law. It will be a grey area, but I can't see any charges being brought against either of them, nor Orion either. Quite honestly the Ministry has enough to do."

"How is Orion?" Hermione asked, directing her question to Caspar.

"Orion is well, and has registered for Wolfsbane. He is considering further education in different fields, now he is no longer obliged to be stuck here with me. A world of opportunity just opened up to him and he wants to embrace it. He is reacting in the way I believed _my_ son would," Caspar replied, his tone thick with regret.

"He was so close to acceptance. When you went out with him the other night, Hermione, it was the first time that David has taken a witch out who had knowledge of his true status. He was elated by it, so happy that he could finally be himself."

Hermione blushed scarlet.

"I am so sorry, Casper. The fact that David is a werewolf made no difference to me when it came to accepting a date with him, he can be confident of that. I had no intention of hurting his feelings, but it was bad timing since I had not fully dealt with the issue of my previous relationship."

"Hermione, my dear, all is fair in love and war, as the muggles say. You do not need to explain yourself to me. It was a poor situation, David knows this, and neither of you is at fault. Just one of those things. But it gave him a taste of the life he could have, and therefore it makes me even more astounded that he has chosen to turn his back and run wild with the werewolves. I just cannot fathom why he would do it. I can only hope he is safe ... but living amongst those savage beasts, Fenrir Greyback in particular ... I cannot help but doubt it."

\- xxx -

They floo'ed from St Mungo's back to the Ministry atrium, grabbing a sandwich from the trolley run by a couple of surly old witches near the fountain, and found a seat close to the water to eat in the short amount of time remaining in their lunch hour.

"I can't help thinking that sending him that note the other week, you know, in response to the flowers and asking me out again, tipped him over the edge," Hermione worried, taking a large, thoughtful bite of her ham and cheese.

"I doubt that," Esther replied, sagely, "You might be a sexual marvel that can tame the terrifying and notoriously demanding Severus Snape, but I don't think even _you_ could send a man to madness after only one date and a couple of snogs."

"As much as I should be offended by the impertinence of your answer, it actually helps," Hermione admitted.

"Of course it does," her colleague grinned, waving her sandwich around imperiously, "I am the oracle of all knowledge, in the relationship game, of course."

Hermione rolled her eyes, good-naturedly.

"And speaking of old Snape, how is that going? Obviously I should have kicked his arse for the way he treated you, but he seems to have made amends for his behaviour, and besides, I'm feisty, not _suicidal_."

Hermione smiled, secretly both proud and smug that her wizard inspired that kind of awe in people, even if it wasn't strictly positive. His reputation was intact, no one but she had seen the broken, traumatised side of him that was slowly but surely being brought back to life.

"It's going really well," she smirked, going for enigmatic but ending up more lascivious.

"Is that so?" Esther raised an eyebrow, making Hermione blush deeply for the second time that day.

" _That_ good? And don't tell me you _can't say_. Give me something to chew on."

Hermione grinned naughtily at her friend. Why shouldn't she share a little?

"Oh yes, Esther. _That_ good."

Esther swallowed a large bite of sandwich with a look approaching envy in her eyes, making Hermione feel curiously satisfied.

\- xxx –

She entered Lawton Barn via the large fireplace in the workroom to find Draco still there and both he and Severus bent over large cauldrons of a smoking potion.

"Advanced Wolfsbane?" she enquired, walking across the room and planting a kiss on Severus' warm cheek, which he extended towards her, unable to take his eyes from the potion.

"It is indeed. Your damnable change in legislation has led to every private healer in the land ordering in bulk supplies."

"That's a good thing, surely?"

"It is extremely lucrative business, yes. However, not quite so good for your dinner, which I have not even thought about preparing."

A loud snort came from Draco, working at the next bench, as he turned to face them.

"You usually have dinner waiting for her, Severus? How very ... domestic," he goaded.

"Attend your brew and not my business, Mr Malfoy," Severus replied curtly, causing Draco to spin around and make no further comment, just as if he had been chastised by a teacher.

 _Which he just had been_ , she supposed.

"Don't worry. I would offer to cook but I'm sure you wish the kitchen to remain whole and dinner to be edible, so I'll wander down the lane to the pub and bring back food."

He smiled crookedly and gave a small nod, so she nipped upstairs to change her travelling cloak for a muggle jacket and set off down the country lane to the village pub, a small low-ceilinged affair that reminded her of the Three Broomsticks, with the notable exception that there were no goblets and tankards floating around cleaning themselves, nor bottles of Butterbeer lined up behind the bar.

She ordered three steak pies, a package of mixed vegetables and potatoes and a flask of gravy to take away, and sat with a small glass of white wine whilst waiting for her order to be cooked. The wine was surprisingly good, crisp and dry, so she decided to buy a bottle of it to take home to eat with dinner, which Severus was sure to appreciate after working so late.

She didn't know whether Draco would stay and eat with them but felt she ought to cater for him too, hence the third pie, thinking it was unlikely that the ugly brand on his left arm allowed him much of a social life.

Wandering back up the lane in the evening sun, still bright and warm as it was only just into September; she was carrying her bags in the muggle way, no lightening or shrinking charms. She let herself into the barn door, where Severus and Draco were clearing up with magic, the contents of the cauldrons now decanted into small phials, packaged in secure boxes that were neatly addressed and ready to be delivered the following day.

Hermione conjured a tablecloth and covered one end of the unused workbench with it, summoning three stools, plates, cutlery and glasses from upstairs and setting out the food and pouring the wine. Severus looked across at her questioningly.

"Will you eat with us, Draco? You've worked well past your time and the least we can do is offer you a meal."

He looked surprised, but not unpleasantly so, and nodded his agreement. They sat down at the workbench and began to eat, all three of them silent and starving after a long day's work.

"Do you know what I have just realised?" Severus was the first to speak, surprisingly, since it was unusual for him to initiate _small talk_.

Without waiting for an answer, he continued, drawling in his usual slow style.

"This is the first September in twenty one years that I have not been shaking my head over the newest intake of first-year dunderheads at Hogwarts. I cannot say I miss any part of it."

Apparently without needing an answer, he returned to his food and wine.

"I miss Hogwarts," said Hermione, slightly dreamily, "I'd like to go back and do the whole seven years again, although possibly with slightly less danger this time."

" _You_ would, Granger," Draco shot back, earning him a scowl from Hermione.

"Just because _you_ hated it, doesn't mean we all did. You should have found yourself better friends."

"You're probably right. Anyway, it would be a bit awkward and wrong now. You know, now that you're shagging the Potions Master and all."

"Draco," Severus growled, in a warning tone.

"I'll play nice," he pouted, "But to change the subject, Granger promised me and Teddy an invitation to her beach house and its now September with not one hint of drop of sea or grain of sand in sight. That's since she got involved with you again, Severus."

"Is this true, Hermione?" Severus turned to look at her.

"It certainly is. I said they could come and stay since Teddy had such a good day at the beach when they visited."

"It sounds like young Master Lupin was not the only wizard who enjoyed his visit?"

"They both did, and don't deny it, Draco. And Harry did too."

"Potter?" questioned Severus, his eyebrow shooting up in a pointed arch as his gaze flicked between Draco and Hermione.

"Yes Harry was there too. He and Draco did have such an awfully good time frolicking around in the sea together."

Severus smirked.

"We did not ... _frolic_ , Granger," Draco muttered.

"It looked like frolicking to me, Draco," she shot back. "Why not just admit you had a great time? With each other?"

"Potter and I are not friends."

"You did a very good impression of proving _that_ to be a lie."

"He's ... different, now."

"Actually, he's not. He's just the same Harry as he's always been; a bit dreamy, slightly irresponsible; fiercely loyal to his friends and of course, completely infuriating when he wants to be. I would suggest it's _you_ that's different, Draco, not Harry."

Draco looked slightly uncomfortable, and Severus was smirking as he ate, greatly enjoying the exchange between the two formerly warring students.

"So, can me and Teddy come then? Before the weather turns?"

"I don't see why not. Severus and I live at the cottage at weekends, come this Friday?"

"I spend all week with him and now he is to encroach upon my weekend in addition?" Severus took this moment to return to the conversation as an active participant.

"It is called socialising, Severus," she shot back, instantly.

"I am not social."

"And don't we all know it," Draco mumbled under his breath, not quite daring to take on his employer when Hermione was doing such a cracking job of putting the dark wizard firmly in his place.

Severus was looking at Hermione with a slightly cornered and perplexed look upon his severe face.

"I do not have issue with spending time with Mr Malfoy, however have you given thought to how you will accommodate him and young Master Lupin? The cottage is exceptionally small and whilst a day visit did not present any problem, the two of them will need space to sleep if they are to spend the weekend?"

"I'll have the sofa," Draco replied, quickly, not wanting anything to get in the way of him being able to escape the claustrophobic environment of Malfoy Manor for a weekend. Despite the fact that Hermione's small crofters cottage could likely fit into the entrance hall of his family seat in its entirety, the feeling of space and freedom he'd had whilst there was something he had been desperate to experience again.

"I am sure that won't be necessary," replied Severus with a resigned sigh. "If this visit is to go ahead I shall magically expand the ground floor to create an extra room, which Draco can use."

"That would be a brilliant idea! Ron told me that's what his parents did with the Burrow, every time they had another child Arthur would just magically add another room." Hermione smiled, delightedly.

"I should hope to create something rather more aesthetically-pleasing than the topsy-turvy jumble of walls I have witnessed at the Weasleys," Severus drawled.

Draco chuckled, and was met with a stern look from Hermione.

" _They_ like it. And it is a home full of love and warmth, if not particularly _aesthetically-pleasing_ ," she retorted.

Both Slytherins were silenced, realising that Hermione would always defend the Weasleys as if they were her family, and there was short pause before anyone spoke again.

"Then it is arranged," Severus concluded. "Draco, you and I shall finish our working day early on Friday, leaving me free to go and make adjustments at Cliffside, and you to go and gather your belongings, including the infant. Hermione, you can come directly to the cottage after work, does that suit?"

"It does, Severus, thank you," she smiled, "and Draco, shall I be inviting Harry also?"

Hermione could have sworn that she noticed a flush creep up the pale skin of his neck and spread floridly across his cheeks.

"Well, only if you want to. It doesn't matter to me. But you know, if you and Severus need ... _alone time_ , it might be good for me to have someone to escape the house with," he smirked.

"Potter too?" Severus' eyebrows shot up into his hairline as he addressed his girlfriend, intent on doing _social_ things.

Hermione placed her hand gently on his forearm.

"You'll be alright. You can do this, breathe deeply," she grinned, and then lowered her voice, whispering; "I can promise you I will make it extremely worth your while."

His eyes fixed on hers and darkened with desire, making Draco cough and leap to his feet, setting his cutlery across his empty place and taking a step towards the apparition porch.

"And _that_ , is exactly what I mean. I'm going to need back-up if I'm to cope with you two slobbering all over one another all weekend."

Severus made to deliver a stinging retort, most likely about what an impertinent suggestion it was that he, Severus Snape, would ever _slobber_ , but Hermione squeezed his arm to stop him before he had begun. She knew why it would be a good idea to invite Harry also, even if the two snakes didn't.

"Let's consider it organised then," she concluded, "Draco, I'll look forward to seeing you and Teddy on Friday evening. Don't forget your bucket and spade."

Draco gave her a little salute and a grateful smile, before entering the porch and apparating away. Hermione turned Severus around on the stool and stood between his legs, her small hands atop his strong shoulders. She dropped a kiss on his forehead, and another on the crease between his black eyebrows. He looked up at her.

"Malfoy and Potter? All weekend? And a blue-headed baby?"

"I understand this is a completely new experience for you. But it is honestly very normal, to weekend with one's friends."

"Neither of those little shits are my friends."

"Now, we both know that's not true. What you and Draco have going here, is the closest approximation to friendship that I've seen you have. And Harry, well, you just need to get to know him a little better."

"Do you not think I should have friends my own age?"

"By all means, if you wish to invite Andromeda Black, please go ahead," she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Point taken. Potter and Malfoy will do, I suppose. I don't wish to be conjuring any more extensions than I need to."

"You'll still only need to create the one extra room."

"Only one? What; is one of them going to share the tiny room with the baby?"

"Think about it, Severus," she replied, clearing the table with a wave of her wand and sending the dirty crockery upstairs to the kitchenette.

"Think about what?" He was nonplussed, having no idea what she was talking about.

Her eyes glittered at him, and she plopped a quick kiss on his lips before turning and heading towards the dark cherrywood stairs, pausing to remove her shoes and carry them upstairs. He had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, but had a feeling he was meant to ask. Kicking off his boots and leaving them at the bottom of the stairs, he followed her up, finding her in the living space by the huge bed, taking off her work clothes.

He was instantly upon her.

"Let me help you with that," he purred, slipping his hands under her open blouse and unfastening her bra whilst leaning in to kiss her soft neck.

She stood and allowed him to remove her blouse and bra, shivering in pleasure as he palmed her bare breasts, rubbing his thumbs sensuously across each of her nipples while his black eyes roamed her face as if he was reacquainting himself with it. She slid her hands up his chest and around his neck, lightly kissing his lips while his hands moved to the fastening of her skirt and released it, pushing it down along with her knickers.

He ran his calloused hands all over the smooth skin of her naked body and deepened the kiss, nudging her mouth open with his lips and waiting for her to flick her little tongue against his. When she did, he pulled her tighter against him, enjoying his armful of nakedness whilst he himself was fully clothed. It was rather erotic.

He released her, and began to unbutton his own shirt, slightly disappointed to see her summon a pair of pyjama shorts and a little vest top and put them on. She saw his expression fall and smiled, telling him they would finish their conversation first before ... _anything else_. She slipped his shirt from his shoulders, before unfastening his trousers and pushing them to the floor, leaving him in only his black undershorts.

Aha, she knew what she would do now. She summoned the healing balm from the bathroom cabinet and bade him to sit down on the bed in front of her.

He didn't need telling twice. The dual benefit of the healing cream upon the tattered skin of his back, coupled with the sensual pleasure of Hermione's hands and fingers massaging in the thick yellow unguent was both a soothing and blissful experience in one. He let out a long moan of pleasure as she gently began to smooth a large handful into his abraded skin, working it into every scar and knot. He sank his head forwards, allowing his hair to fall either side of his face, and closed his eyes.

Once she was satisfied she had applied the requisite amount of calendula balm, she instructed him to lay face-down on the bed to allow it to sink in, and she crawled across the quilt to lie next to him, their faces turned towards each other.

"So tell me," he said at length, his voice slightly fusty from the mellow state he was in after the massage, "why will I only need to conjure one spare room at the cottage this weekend?"

"Are you ready for some hard facts?"

He opened his eyes a little wider; his ability to snap from sleepy to alert in a split-second had not left him yet.

"That depends. Are you about to ruin my day? Which thus far, has been busy but rather pleasant?"

"No day-ruining planned at all. Severus, Harry is gay."

"Not entirely surprising. And this affects me, how exactly?"

"Harry has a crush on Draco Malfoy."

"Draco Malfoy is not gay."

"And how would you know? I mean, how would you know for certain?"

"Parkinson."

"Ginny Weasley."

"I'm sorry? What does Ginevra Weasley have to do with Potter being gay?"

"Exactly that. Harry and Ginny were together whilst in school, and for a while afterwards. It took him a while to realise and accept his own sexuality. It might have been the same for Draco and Pansy."

Severus gave the matter a cursory thought.

"Are you saying that Draco is gay?"

"I'm not saying he is, or he isn't. I don't know. All I do know is that they were very ... _friendly_ , when they were together at the cottage, and again at Madam Pomfrey's memorial service. I had to leave them to their bantering, so surplus was I to the conversation. That was when you approached me."

"I remember," he replied, thinking of that day, the saddest of days as he said goodbye to his friend Poppy, but also the happiest of days as Hermione had forgiven him his behaviour and accepted his bond.

"I don't know whether I'm seeing something that isn't there, just because I know that Harry fancies Draco, but honestly, you should see them together. I really do think that they are flirting."

"You make interesting points indeed, little witch. Fine, we shall observe them, and allow them some time to be together, on this terribly sociable weekend of ours. I should also warn you that I will be placing silencing charms at the foot of the stairs so I shall not have to listen to whatever they may get up to, nor be disturbed by a crying infant."

"And," grinned Hermione, edging a little closer to him, "and, so they don't hear _us_."

His mouth curled with a slow, wolfish, smile.

"Oh yes," he drawled, reaching out his bare arm and pulling her against him, "there certainly won't be any curtailment of _those_ activities, visitors or none. I shall cast the strongest silencing charm in my power."

He wriggled his head around so that his mouth was on hers and began to peck searching kisses upon her lips, enjoying the feel of her hand that had slipped onto his arse and was squeezing his bum cheek.

"Severus?" she asked, between kisses.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Do you remember you promised to show me something?"

"Promised to show you something?" His eyebrow arched upwards, wickedly. "Was it my cock?" He turned onto his side so she could clearly see the outline of the beginnings of an erection through his black underwear, and let out a small groan as she used one finger to trace around it, lingering over the sensitive tip.

"The memory of you teaching the Slytherins to ballroom dance before the Yule Ball."

He groaned again, and this time not from pleasure. Damn, he had hoped she would forget about that. Although that was a stupid notion, as if Hermione Granger would ever forget _anything_.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather go to bed?" he replied hopefully, nudging his cock against her hand in a very juvenile and unsophisticated manner.

"Severus, it is not even nine o'clock yet."

He debated trying to persuade her out of the idea, but decided against it. He knew enough of Hermione both as his girlfriend and as a student to know that once she had an idea in her head, she would hold on to it as tightly as a dog with a particularly juicy bone.

Grumbling audibly, he sat up and summoned the pensieve from a cupboard in the dresser, sending it spinning over to them. Hermione also sat up and sat cross-legged next to the stone bowl that was levitating between them, and watched him intently with a smile on her face as he raised his wand to his temple and grimaced whilst extracting a long silvery strand of memory from his mind, winding it around the wand before depositing it in the shimmering surface of the pensieve where it swirled there, mischievously.

"Are you coming in with me?" she asked, innocently.

"Do I have any choice?"

"Hmmm, you always have a choice, but I think I'd prefer you came with me."

"You are an utter pain in the arse, Miss Granger. You should consider yourself exceptionally lucky that I am completely in love with you, and therefore will allow you to get away with anything."

She gave him the most beautiful smile that warmed his heart and smoothed away his snit in an instant. He reached out his hand and took hold of hers, and they both leaned forwards into the pensieve.


	55. Chapter 55

**Chapter 55**

They landed in the large room that Hermione recognised from her own ballroom-dance instruction with Professor McGonagall. Filch was at the oversized gramophone, with a bedraggled-looking Mrs Norris twisting herself around his ankles, and the fourth to seventh year Slytherins were lined down either side of the hall, girls to one side, boys to the other. That, however, was where the similarities ended.

Rather than the good-humoured nervousness she remembered from her own Gryffindor sessions, the majority of Slytherins looked at their ease; smug expressions on their faces and a fair few looking a little bored.

They watched memory-Snape enter the ballroom with his customary flourish and stalk briskly up the centre of the room with his teaching robes billowing behind him, allowing the heavy door to slam shut behind him, announcing his arrival and gaining the resulting attention he required without saying a word.

"You really are darkly sexy when you make an entrance, Severus," she whispered, despite there being no need to lower her voice, since they could not be seen or heard in the memory.

"Hush, Miss Granger, you were barely fifteen years old at the time. Behave yourself, or I shall remove you from the pensieve," he chastised, although she remained unabashed.

"I didn't say I thought so _at the time_. I'm just saying I think it _now_."

" _Behave_ ," he repeated, tapping her lightly on the arse before settling his arm comfortably around her waist.

For the first time he felt relaxed and unconcerned upon entering the pensieve with Hermione. The memory he was showing her contained none of the awfulness of previous shared memories. He could, if pushed, even see the humour in it. _Most_ unlike him, he mused.

Memory-Snape spun around and faced the room of his assembled older Slytherins and began to address them in his customary stern fashion.

"Fourth to Seventh years," he began, unsmiling, "as you are no doubt aware, the Yule Ball is a customary event that takes place during the Tri-Wizard tournament as a way for the three schools involved to socialise in a formal manner. I stress, _formal_ , seeing as the ball is only open to older students from fourth year upwards, since they are considered ... mature enough to behave in an appropriate manner. It should not be necessary for me to advise you that any student of Slytherin whom I deem incapable of the required behaviour will have their permission to attend the ball ... revoked."

He glared around the room as if daring any of his pupils to disagree, and Hermione saw many of her own year group gulp visibly. Not for the first time, she wondered how this man who could command the complete attention of a huge room of students, quell them to silence of the kind where you could hear a pin drop, could suffer such lack of self-esteem, confidence and self-loathing. Severus was an absolute dichotomy, and by Merlin she loved him for it, for keeping her interest, her attention, every day they were together.

"You should expect the Yule Ball to be a grand occasion," he continued, "and I shall expect each of you to demonstrate competency on the dance floor, hence the aim of these ... lessons. Anyone who fails to show that they can perform a simple waltz by the final lesson will also find themselves with an early bedtime on the night of the ball. Do I make myself clear?"

There were murmurs of _Yes, Sir_ , and _Yes, Professor Snape_ from around the room.

"Now. Many of you are from historical wizarding families who practice traditional dance as a matter of course. However, in equal number there are those for whom this style of dance will be completely new. I shall shortly be asking you to select a dance partner, and boys; this will be your unhappy duty as it is traditional for the wizard always to request a dance from the witch, and not the other way around."

A chorus of groans rang out from the male side of the room.

"Silence. I did not ask for your opinion on the matter. Hundreds of years of magical tradition go before you, and you shall adhere to them. Now. I would like a volunteer from the boys, preferably one who has some experience of formal dancing."

No one moved a muscle, all seemingly terrified that Snape would pick them out to demonstrate.

"Excuse me, Sir, I was told that the other Heads of House demonstrated the required approach and steps to the students themselves?"

Snape spun around and shot the seventh year boy who had asked the question a look of barely disguised loathing.

"Silas Yaxley," Severus whispered against her ear, making her startle, "Do you recognise the name?"

She nodded. How could she forget the odious Death Eater Yaxley, who had sat alongside Dolores Umbridge in the court hearing against muggleborns they had witnessed? Yaxley; who had chased them from the Ministry, causing Ron's dreadful splinching accident. The tall, blond seventh year with a look of entitled arrogance across his face was his son.

"Nasty little bastard," Severus continued, "He joined the death eaters alongside his father as soon as he left Hogwarts. Fortunately at this point we are viewing, the Dark Lord had not yet returned, as you know."

She turned at the sound of Professor Snape addressing the room again, in the memory, responding to Silas' request.

"If that would enable even the most troll-footed of you to learn an acceptable approach, then I shall of course comply."

He gave Silas Yaxley a curt nod, before turning towards the bank of female students, all of whom seemed to shrink back into their seats except for a few of the older, most mature girls. He walked towards a very tall girl with a thick, black plait over one shoulder, gave a shallow bow and extended his right hand with a slight flourish.

"Miss Keller, I should be pleased if you would join me for the next dance?"

The dark haired girl smiled tightly, before standing up and taking hold of her professor's hand somewhat reluctantly. She was very tall indeed, only a couple of inches shorter than Severus himself.

Snape led her to the centre of the room, effected a standard waltz hold with the girl, and began to explain exactly _where_ and _where not_ hands should be placed during a formal dance.

"I do not expect to see any of you with hands anywhere apart from where you see mine placed now. Observe."

He turned Miss Keller, now blushing a deep pink, reminding Hermione of how embarrassed Ron had been to demonstrate the dance hold with McGonagall, around in a slow circle so that the assembled students could see the correct way to hold your dance partner.

"The waltzes that will be played at the Yule Ball are danced to a count of three. I am presuming that even the most dunderheaded among you can at least manage a simple count."

Hermione smirked as she saw his gaze shift to Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, currently both pushing the sleeves on their school uniform jumpers up and down, apparently deciding which would be best for dancing. She rolled her eyes. Idiots.

Snape nodded to Filch to start the gramophone, and a scratchy piece of music suitable for the waltz began to crackle around the room.

"And, we proceed, dancing to the count of three."

He began to count aloud in the required rhythm, and started to move his feet and body, his strong arms and ramrod-straight back guiding Miss Keller around the dancefloor with surprising grace and ease.

Hermione turned to him, astonished.

"You can dance?"

"As you can see," he replied, a little smugly, "One of the few benefits of mixing in a pureblood society with Regulus Black was the chance to attend many formal events. Regulus insisted that I learnt, in fact, he personally taught me."

She watched the memory of him partnering the tall Slytherin girl around the dancefloor with pride in the fine bearing and unexpected skill of her wizard.

"The girl ... ?" she began.

"Malva Keller. A fine young witch; exceptionally sensible and well-read. Once of the few Slytherins at that time whose family were not known to have Death Eater leanings. She should have been Head Girl, but as always, the Head Girl and Boy were very rarely selected from among Slytherin House."

Malva, Malva Keller. She turned the name around in her head but couldn't place the name, although it sounded a little familiar.

"Her father was killed shortly after the Dark Lord's return. Neither Malva nor her mother were ever seen again. I can only hope they kept themselves safe."

They both silently turned back to the dance floor to watch him lead Malva Keller in demonstration, the girl who just a few short months after the Yule Ball had suffered the murder of her father and then disappeared forever. There really wasn't a life that had been unchanged by Voldemort lunacy.

As the dance drew to a close, Snape demonstrated how to properly detach from one's partner and thank them for the dance, before calling the boys to approach a girl and bring her to the floor to practice. Malva had been approached before she'd even turned around to return to her seat by Silas Yaxley, whose hand she took with even less enthusiasm than she'd had for her Head of House.

Hermione began to laugh she watched her former classmates pair up. Pansy Parkinson had turned as green as her school tie as she waited expectantly for Draco to approach her, only to see him confidently ask a very pretty sixth year instead, with all the confidence of being accepted.

"The Malfoys are well-known to be a bastion of pureblood superiority," Severus drawled, "Draco could have approached any girl he wished, despite his youth. Watch him dance, when the music starts, he really was exceptionally well-trained, probably at great expense to his parents."

Pansy ended up lumbered with Gregory Goyle, who at least was tall, if not graceful. Draco's other sidekick, the squat Vincent Crabbe, had partnered the gargantuan Millicent Bulstrode and they made a terribly odd couple, although they both looked happy enough with each other. Hmmm, perhaps there was some truth in the rumour that the two had been involved at Hogwarts.

" _Now_ then," Snape addressed the room, the dance floor now full of partnered students.

"When the music begins, you will keep a count of three - in your _head_ , Crabbe, I can see your mouth moving already, idiot boy - and use this count to guide your steps. Boys, you will lead, and I expect you to do so in a responsible and capable manner. Girls, please make an attempt at elegance, at least."

The last of the sentence fell to a mutter, as he was clearly a little embarrassed.

"Don't worry," Hermione whispered to him, "Professor McGonagall told us we had a _secret swan_ inside of us, ready to burst forth and take flight."

Severus barked out a loud laugh.

"I cannot believe that."

"Believe it. _And inside every boy_ ," she mimicked what she could remember of McGonagall's speech, " _A lordly lion, prepared to prance_."

Severus was belly-laughing now; there were tears in his eyes.

"Hermione, I have to ask you for the memory of Minerva's dance instruction."

"Not on your life. I was a frizzy-haired little schoolgirl, I'm not having you see me like that!"

"Far be it for me to be the bearer of bad news, but I can see that image any time I wish."

She looked at him in confusion, and he tapped the side of his head.

"Thankfully, I choose to mostly think of you as you are now. The schoolgirl Miss Granger tends to make me feel distinctly uncomfortable."

"Good," she retorted, although she liked that he was still smiling broadly after his laughing fit.

The music in the memory started, and both of them were soon in stitches at the Slytherins' first attempts. Millicent and Crabbe were hilarious, barely attempting a shuffle, whereas Draco did indeed strike out with confidence and ability across the floor.

Snape indicated to Filch that he should halt the gramophone, and the music stopped with an abrupt scratch.

"That was deplorable," Snape berated the assembled students. "You will need to practice every free hour you have in order to be competent enough to survive the dance floor on the night of this tedious occasion."

Hermione laughed as the grey mist swirled around them and they were ejected from the pensieve. She was still laughing as they sat up on the bed where they were still sitting side-by-side, holding hands.

"Might I ask what is so funny?" He cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Not just the sight of my cohorts attempting to dance, although I give Draco credit, but you, Severus. You were so _depressing_ about it all; you described the biggest event ever to happen at Hogwarts as a _tedious occasion_."

"Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Tell me how Minerva described it. Please."

Hermione cast around in her mind for the words her Head of House had used.

"She described it as ... _a night of well-mannered frivolity_."

Severus grinned as he retrieved the memory from the bowl and send the pensieve spinning back to the cupboard.

"She would."

He pulled Hermione towards him and planted a hard kiss on her lips.

"Satisfied now, you little pain in the arse?"

"Not quite."

He looked confused as she jumped off the bed and over to the wireless, finding a wizarding radio station that played soft, slow music in the evenings that she often used to listen to in her room at the Burrow after a busy day at work. A haunting melody filled the air, and she walked back to the bed, holding out her hand to him.

"We have never danced together. Would you dance with me, Severus, please?"

"I believe my tutelage suggests that it is the wizard that makes the approach?"

"Then ask me."

He sighed, and climbed off the bed, tugging her hand and pulling her close into him.

"Come here, my exceptional witch, I accept your offer. The two of us have never been particularly traditional."

He manoeuvred them around the bed and to the open space in the middle of the long attic room, taking her in a formal hold and began to move her confidently to the rhythm of the soft music. Given that she was in her tiny pyjamas and he in his underpants they soon found themselves closer than any ballroom rules dictated, with many stolen kisses as they danced.

Severus pressed his forehead to hers, keeping her hypnotised with the way he moved her around gently and seamlessly, letting go of her hand and feeling it slip around his back to caress the rough skin there. He threaded his hand through her hair and cupped behind her head, pulling her mouth up to meet his and began a heated kiss, all the time undulating his body, moving her torso with his own, guiding her against him with his other hand on her lower back.

"Fuck, Severus, you can dance," she breathed against his lips.

"I do not think this kind of dancing would have been permitted at the Yule Ball."

"Definitely not. You didn't dance on the night, did you? I didn't see you if you did."

"I did not. I remember seeing you, however, on the dance floor all night with one Mr Krum."

"It was a good night."

"Hopefully not that good."

"Not as good as this one, right now."

"Do you mean that, Hermione?"

"I mean everything I say to you, Severus."

He returned his lips to hers and began to kiss her again, in earnest, pushing his tongue into her mouth and pulling both her arms around his neck, all pretence of dancing forgotten. He ran his hands slowly down her back and pushed down her little pyjama shorts, which slipped down her legs and dropped on the floor.

Whilst her arms were holding tightly around his neck, returning his kisses, he pushed down his own shorts and let them drop to the floor also, before hoisting her up and wrapping her legs around his waist so that her bare cunt was sitting right on the tip of his erect cock, the knob just dipping inside her.

She gasped and broke the kiss, moving back so she could see his face.

"Severus! Are you strong enough to do that?"

He raised that damnable eyebrow and a shot of pure lust hit her straight in the pit of her stomach.

"We are about to find out."

She felt his hand on the small of her back, pushing her down his prick, sliding himself inside her. She tightened her legs around him, making him moan. After an attempt to thrust that nearly saw both of them sprawled on the floor, he backed up and sat in one of the large wingback armchairs by the bedroom fireplace.

As he sat down, she extricated her legs from around his waist and set her knees on the arms of the chair, giving herself a perfect surface to slide up and down on his urgent erection. He grasped her bare bum cheeks and began to move her, helping her find the rhythm he needed, grunting louder as she fucked him faster.

Satisfied that she was confident in her movements, he brought his hands to her breasts and roughly pushed up her stretchy vest top, sitting it on top of her full tits, just ripe and ready for his touch. He palmed them both as he had done earlier that evening, thumbing her nipples before pushing them together and pulling them both towards his hungry mouth, licking and slavering between the taut peaks as she ground herself higher on the end of his cock.

Hermione gripped back of the chair and bit her lip hard as she sped up the movement of her hips, chasing the orgasm that she could feel building as Severus' large cock was shoved deep inside her repeatedly, the depth of his penetration enhanced by this angle, the bulbous tip deliciously irritating her g-spot inside, tipping her nearer and nearer towards her climax. His sharp tongue was speeding across the surface of her erect nipples whilst his large hands roughly squeezed her breasts, his groans of passion and impending release only driving her nearer to her own.

"Fuck, Hermione, _fucking Merlin_ , oh fuck, _fuckkkkk_ ..."

His hips began to thrust upwards involuntarily as he shot his hot orgasm inside her, and the pulsing of his cock pushed her over the edge and she came around him, feeling her walls clamp around his still-thrusting penis.

"Severus," she panted, riding out the final contractions of her orgasm. "Oh Severus. No one but you. No other wizard but you."

"Never," he replied, his voice reduced to a hoarse whisper, "You are _mine_."

"Yours," she agreed, sinking against his chest in exhaustion.

\- xxx –

Hermione was in the tiny room at Cliffside Cottage, transfiguring the small bed into a high-sided cot that Teddy could sleep in safely for the next two nights. Her pink floral quilt became a blue baby duvet, and she covered the chest containing Severus' precious books with a protective charm, and a soft throw for good measure.

She wandered out into the living room and through the new door that Severus had conjured in the wall adjacent to the glass one. There was now a whole extra room there, a good size, containing two double beds, a chest of drawers between them, and a clothes rail. There was a large window that looked out over the sea, the same aspect that could be seen from the living room, and a skylight in the room that filled it with natural light. She really was impressed by what he had made, despite already knowing his prodigious magical skill.

She had to admit that unlike the haphazard Burrow, the extra room looked like it had always been part of the house, and best of all it was undetectable from the outside due to the permanent _Repello Muggleton_ she had applied, the charm was a must for magical homes not situated in all-Wizarding villages such Hogsmeade, Godric's Hollow and Ottery-St-Catchpole.

A shopping trip to Diagon Alley during her lunch hour in the week had led to the purchase of the new furniture, which had been delivered an hour ago and been sent directly to the new extended room. The finishing touches were the bedlinens and curtains in teal and taupe that matched her room upstairs, and a vase of beach wildflowers atop the chest of drawers.

Severus stowed his wand and turned to Hermione for her approval.

"Will this be satisfactory?"

"More than satisfactory, Severus, it is utterly beautiful. I could almost be jealous; it's bigger than our room! Not that I would give up the top of the house, though." She stood on tiptoes and kissed his lips firmly. "Thank you, my darling."

As always the slightest affection from her melted his cold heart.

"You have dressed and furnished the room very nicely, Hermione. However, I am not sure that either Potter or Malfoy will appreciate your efforts."

"I'm sure they will. And I know the beds aren't large, but with two doubles there's no ... issue about who sleeps where."

"Are you expecting them to end up in the same bed?"

"Not at all – who knows what they may or may not get up to? This just ... gives them the option."

Severus rolled his eyes as the Floo glowed green and Draco stepped through, Teddy clutched to his hip and a sizeable suitcase held firmly in the opposing hand.

"Have you come for a month, Draco?" Severus asked him, drily.

"You have no idea how much stuff babies need. Most of this belongs to Teddy, not me."

Severus picked up the suitcase and took it into the tiny bedroom where Hermione has transfigured the cot.

"Do you want to see the new room that Severus conjured?"

"By all means."

She waved her hand towards the slightly-open door and Draco walked towards it and pushed, the sunlight glinting on the top of his blond head as he entered the brand new room.

"Granger. You went to a lot of trouble for me."

"Not really. It was mostly for Harry. I like him better, you see."

Draco noted the twinkle in her eyes and knew she was teasing.

"Besides, Severus did all the work, I just shopped, which was actually most enjoyable, thank you."

They heard the _whoosh_ of the floo again and returned to the living room to see Harry tumble untidily out of the fireplace, a raggedy old rucksack thrown over one shoulder, glasses askew and hair a riot as always.

"Ah-Bah!" exclaimed Teddy loudly, wriggling to be put down so he could toddle over to his godfather.

"I see that young Lupin's vocabulary has not improved since he was last in my presence," Severus observed, shooting the toddler a withering look.

Harry looked up from where he was kneeling on the hearth, his godson clambering all over him, smirking at Draco and Hermione.

"It's going to be a long weekend, clearly," he grinned.

"For Severus it will be. For the rest of us, it should be excellent," Draco replied, his mouth twisting up in a smile to match Harry's.

\- xxx -


	56. Chapter 56

**Chapter 56**

"Right, Granger, it's been far too long since I've walked on that private beach of yours and felt the sand between my toes. Let's put that right straight away. I'm taking this baby to the seaside now I'm this close, anyone coming with me?"

"It's not _my_ beach, Draco, it's a public beach, anyone can use it," Hermione replied, pulling Harry to his feet.

"When I boast about this weekend, it _will_ be your private beach," he smirked, "Not that I have anyone to boast to, really," he added, somewhat dolefully.

She gave him a small smile, and turned towards Severus.

"I'd like to go, but I think Severus is cooking dinner ...?"

"I shall be able to prepare dinner far better without the three of you, plus infant, getting under my feet and making a noise. Be gone, all of you. Dinner will be ready in about an hour."

Draco and Harry snickered quietly, but she hesitated, feeling guilty about swanning off to have fun while he organised everyone's dinner, and opened her mouth to protest.

" _Go_ , Hermione," he cut in, before she'd had a chance to say a word. "I do not mind. There is plenty of time tomorrow for me to join the ... _frolicking on the beach_ , should that prove necessary."

Draco lifted Teddy from the floor and swung him into the air.

"You hear that, Ted? Grumpy old Uncle Severus is going to cook the dinner like a good little housewife while we all go and play at the beach!"

"Bshh!" squealed Teddy, picking up on Draco's excitement.

"He said beach!" exclaimed Harry, smiling at his godson.

"He did not say _beach_ , Potter, you imbecile. He was simply mimicking the sound he heard," Severus derided Harry in a sneering tone, with a facial expression to match.

"And on _that_ note, I'll think we'll head off," Harry told the others, slightly sheepishly.

"When you return, you will find people that have referred to me as _grumpy_ or _old_ , being rather disappointed with their evening repast. And anyone brave or stupid enough to refer to me as _Uncle Severus_ within my hearing ever again, should not even bother attending the table," he drawled, lazily, but laced with a moderate degree of threat.

His three former students chose not to provoke him any further, considering he was rapidly turning on his classroom persona, and instead headed for the small front door in the kitchen, trooping out obediently into the warm evening sun. They had just approached the wooden gate when Hermione told them to wait, _just ten seconds_ , and she nipped back into the house and ran around the breakfast bar to where Severus was still standing in the living room. She launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing her mouth hard against his.

Severus knew better than to miss an opportunity to snog his witch, and he snaked his arms around her waist and grabbed himself a firm clutch of arse cheek in each hand, pulling her up slightly, and holding her hips hard against his as he opened his mouth to receive her kiss and her attention.

She wasn't sure how long they'd been joined at the lips and hips for until she opened her eyes and looked towards the huge window in the living room, where two young wizards were stood looking in, the slack-jawed expressions of nauseous disgust on their faces so identical that she couldn't help but laugh. Severus glowered at them, but did not release Hermione from his tight hold against him. Harry reached up and covered Teddy's eyes with one large hand, where the toddler was perched upon Draco's hip. Honestly, they were both so childish.

Highly amusing, though.

She gave her dark wizard (her adult, grown-up, mature wizard) a final kiss on the lips and wriggled out of his grip until her feet were once again fully on the floor.

"I'll see you in an hour."

He didn't respond, just stared at her in the way she loved, his eyes coal-black with fiery desire, completely fixated on her. She shivered, and not from cold, and this did not escape his notice.

"How grand it is ... _to have company_ ," he told her, in a mocking tone.

"Behave," she chided, finally earning a smirk from her surly lover, as she turned and left the cottage again, ready to receive some serious ribbing from the two voyeurs.

\- xxx –

They traipsed down the low cliff path towards the seashore, ambling slowly at Teddy's pace as he toddled along, still a touch unsteady on his tiny feet, one of his chubby little hands each held by Draco and Harry.

"Ted, mate," Draco said to him, "This is a muggle beach we're going to. I'm not sure they'll take too kindly to a toddler with blue hair."

"Agreed," replied Harry, "I'm pretty sure it's frowned upon to dye your baby's hair."

Teddy looked up between both of them, and stopped walking. Draco reached down and ruffled his spiky blue mop.

"This, Ted. Can you hide it, just while we're outside of the cottage?"

To the astonishment of Harry and Hermione, young Teddy Lupin screwed up his face as if he was about to expel a large poo into his nappy, and concentrating very hard on doing so. Within seconds his hair had morphed into a natural sandy blond, the exact colour of his father.

"Nicely done," Draco praised, less impressed than the other two as he'd seen Teddy metamorphasise voluntarily before, the day that Severus had almost had a panic attack that the baby was about to take a shit in his pristine laboratory.

Magic really was an unexplained and wonderful thing. The three of them, plus a toddler now with normal-coloured hair, continued their descent to the beach. When they got there, Draco surprised them all by letting go of Teddy's hand, leaving him hanging onto Harry, and running down the beach at a great pace, kicking up sand and shingle as he sprinted, before launching himself full-throttle into the water, warm from the summer sun.

Teddy was beside himself with childish giggles at Draco's antics. Hermione took hold of his other little hand and walked him to the water's edge with Harry, where they found Draco bobbing on his back in the water quite happily, sticking his toes up and sculling with his hands to float on the surface.

"I can't tell you how long I've been waiting to do that," he smiled, a fresh, genuine smile that showed his own childish glee, sweeping his soaking, platinum-blonde hair back with one hand.

She watched Harry's eyes narrow at the gesture, and smiled to herself. His crush was as potent as ever, hence why it had taken him no longer than a split-second to accept her invitation to the cottage for the weekend once he knew Draco Malfoy would be in attendance. She didn't know what he had said to Ron, or the rest of the resident Weasleys for that matter, but she didn't much care. The three of them weren't joined at the hip like they used to be. Ron would have been severely third-wheeling if he had been invited too.

Draco turned on his front and began to push himself into shallow water by walking his hands along the sea bed, and Harry released Teddy to toddle towards him. The boy screamed with delight as the water tickled his toes, and Draco moved towards him like a smiling shark, earning himself a solid _wallop_ on the head from Teddy by way of greeting.

"Nice one, Teddy," Harry congratulated.

"Hey," Draco protested, "Don't you two gang up on me."

Hermione watched their eyes meet, and _that_ look, the one she had seen them exchange when they met at the memorial service, passed between them again. The slightly flirtatious; _I-Dare-You_ look. She took a few steps backwards and sat down, giving the three of them some space, and sifting the pebbly sand absent-mindedly between her fingers.

Both boys were using Teddy as their focus, being cheekier and funnier than they would possibly have been if the toddler wasn't there as a safe go-between. Of course all three of them ended up soaked, with their feet and hands covered in sand. Teddy got a small piece of seaweed caught between his little toes and sat down right there in the shallow water, finding it hilarious.

Harry made a great show of extracting the seaweed; tickling Teddy between his toes as he pulled it out, making the little boy roar with laughter, and Hermione was gratified to see Draco looking at them both with happy affection.

When she estimated an hour had passed, she cajoled the three soaking wet wizards from the water, reminding them to wait until they returned to the privacy of the cottage grounds before casting any drying charms. As the cottage came into view Hermione felt the warmest of glows travel down her body as Severus' efforts to facilitate an enjoyable social evening became immediately apparent.

The large glassed wall had been magically opened, concertina-d back as if they were folding doors. The wrought iron table in the garden had been expanded and an extra two chairs conjured, along with a curious high-up seat with a guard rail that she presumed must have been his approximation of a baby's highchair.

There were a myriad small lanterns bobbing around in the air, twinkling brightly and illuminating the garden in the dusk. The table was set for five, with goblets of wine poured, plates and cutlery laid, and several steaming dishes in the middle of the table, their individual serving spoons hovering magically above each of them.

However, what was _most_ incredible was the look on Severus' face. His gaze was fixed intently on hers, seeking approval with his eyes, and she could see the fear that he would disappoint her, or that he had misjudged the occasion, clearly written there. For all his outward confidence, to _her_ he betrayed his innermost feelings and worries. He was concerned she may not be happy with his efforts.

Bidding Harry and Draco to cast drying and cleaning charms over themselves and Teddy, she stepped lightly over to the table and slid her arms around his slim waist, looking up at him in admiration. He was wearing the soft cashmere jumper she loved, long sleeves to cover his scars, but the deep v-neck showing a few of his sparse, black chest hairs and a small glimpse of the pale skin of his pectorals.

"Will this suffice?" he asked her, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"Severus. It is utterly perfect. Whatever I expected from you; it certainly wasn't ... _this_."

She waved one arm in the direction of the table, whilst keeping the other firmly clamped around him.

"I was concerned."

"What about?"

"Concerned that I did not know what kind of meal you were expecting, nor how it should be served, when one dines ... with friends."

She brought her hand up to stroke his cheek, which was beginning to feel prickly with the day's stubble.

"Trust me when I say that you have judged the situation entirely correctly. The food smells wonderful; the table is informal and relaxed, but beautiful enough to show that you have made an effort for our guests."

She looked across at the boys, who were shaking sand from their charm-dried trousers all over the cottage lawn, and rolled her eyes affectionately.

"Even if our _guests_ consist of those three," she grinned, dropping a quick kiss on his lips and shaking her head.

He smiled; crooking up just one side of his mouth in the awkward but genuine smile she loved; and she saw the apprehension leave his eyes.

"You have done so well," she told him, lightly grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the table.

"Now come on, let's eat, I'm starving."

\- xxx -

Harry and Draco were in the pitch dark of the cottage garden, long after Severus' excellent dinner had been cleared away, and their hosts had retired upstairs to bed, _to sleep and nothing else_ , they had both insisted unconvincingly to each other, the thought of any part of Snape's anatomy in close proximity to Hermione was just a little too nauseating to properly countenance.

They had remained on the sofa talking and drinking wine, Teddy's light snores audible from the small bedroom, and a much-appreciated silencing charm meant not a sound could be heard from the floor above.

Draco had dragged Harry out into the garden for a cigarette, after being thoroughly castigated for such a filthy habit, but Potter had capitulated and accompanied him outside regardless.

It had been an extraordinarily pleasant evening. Severus had relaxed once he had a few glasses of wine inside him, and both of them had been amazed at how truly amusing he was, especially when recounting tall tales of life on the staff at Hogwarts. None of them would ever look at Professor Flitwick in quite the same way again after the things they had heard about the diminutive Ravenclaw, a pair of house-elves and the prefect's bathroom.

Mostly, conversation had stayed light-hearted and fairly neutral, apart from a tense moment when Draco had innocently pushed up his sleeves and inadvertently displayed his prominent Dark Mark. The Marks could not be removed or glamoured, both he and Severus were branded for life. Severus had winced, and been unable to tear his arms from the Mark, inky black against the pale skin on Draco's left arm.

"I can't make it go away, Severus, as much as I would like to," he had remarked, softly.

"If your Mark had cost you as much as mine, perhaps you would not be quite so blasé about it," Severus had retorted, before sinking back in his chair, taking another sip from his goblet and opting not to elucidate or criticise further.

Draco watched Harry, who was looking out to sea even though nothing could be seen in the blackness, only the sound of the waves confirmed the ocean was there. His incorrigible hair stuck up in all directions and was blowing in the breeze, his eyes looking tired behind his ever-present round glasses.

"Does my Mark disgust you, Potter?" he asked, taking a deep drag on his cigarette.

Harry turned to face him.

"Disgust me? It used to," he admitted.

"Not any more?"

"I suppose not. Everything that happened, it's in the past now. What's the point in fighting any more? We fought for peace, and we have it."

"Very poetic," Draco smirked.

"Just the truth," Harry shrugged, not losing eye contact.

"What happened to Weasley?"

"Ron?"

"The _female_ Weasley."

"Oh. We're not together anymore," Harry replied, simply.

"I gathered that. I wondered why."

Draco had expected Harry to either tell him to sod off and mind his own business, or possibly be drunk enough to tell him everything that had happened with the little ginger spitfire. What he _hadn't_ expected was for Harry's green eyes to bore into his own, alight with challenge.

"Do you really want to know why, Draco? Are you man enough and open-minded enough for the truth, for once?"

He felt Harry's remark light a spark of ... something unidentifiable inside him. Curiosity? Nosiness? Something else? He wasn't sure.

He smirked, displaying a confidence that he did not feel.

"Sure, go ahead," he goaded, obnoxiously lighting another cigarette.

"Ginny and I split up not because of anything that she did or didn't do. I still love her, but not in a romantic sense."

Draco's shoulders fell with disappointment at being denied a morsel of juicy gossip.

"Is that all?"

"Not really, no, hence why I asked if you were open-minded. I don't love Ginny in a romantic sense because I don't fancy witches. _At all._ I am gay."

Draco felt his mouth fall open in what was doubtless a rather unattractive manner.

" _You_. The great Harry Potter. _Gay_."

"As gay as Albus Dumbledore, my friend," Harry grinned, unabashed and seemingly unafraid of whatever Draco's reaction might have been.

Draco took another lungful of tobacco, exhaling slowly to delay the moment where he might actually have to formulate an answer. He cast his free hand around, vaguely.

"Do you, um, have you ... got a _boyfriend_?" he asked, battling to keep his tone light and neutral but ending up sounding a bit condescending and snarky. He would end up a grumpy, sneering old fucker like Severus if he wasn't careful.

Harry smiled.

"Nope. I was seeing someone I met through Quidditch, but that's over now. What about you?"

"Me?" Draco coughed, unable to catch his breath, and began to wheeze violently. "I don't have a boyfriend," he finally blurted out, in a high-pitched voice he barely recognised as his own.

Harry barked out a loud laugh.

"I wasn't asking if you had a boyfriend, you stupid git, I was just asking if you were seeing _anyone_. Witch, wizard or flobberworm – it makes no difference to me."

Draco felt rather stupid, now he had recovered the use of his lungs, and he vanished the remains of his second cigarette that he had smoked in quick succession from the first; which had no doubt contributed to his coughing fit. He shook his head.

"Me neither, Potter. Somehow, having a Death Eater father under house arrest and the Dark Mark branded on my arm seems to put off potential partners."

"Have you asked anyone that?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I said, have you actually _asked_ anyone that? Or have you just been pacing the endless halls of Malfoy Manor wallowing in your own miserable self-pity, telling yourself that everybody hates you?"

The open-mouthed fish made its second appearance of the night as Draco's mouth fell open again in surprise at Harry's forthright opinion, of which he wasn't actually far wrong.

"How did you know that?"

He narrowed his ice-blue eyes at his former enemy in suspicion.

"A lucky guess."

The two young wizards stared at each other for a long while, neither quite knowing what to say. Finally, Draco broke the silence.

"What is this, Potter?" he asked, gesturing his hand in between them.

Harry sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and looked towards the house, where they could see the fire glowing through the curtains they had left open to light their way outside, along with a few of Severus' lanterns that had not yet fully burned out.

"Honestly, Malfoy? I don't know. Are we becoming friends? I'd like to think so."

"I'm not gay, Potter."

"I didn't say you were. You _can_ be friends with a gay man, you know, without _catching it_ yourself, like the dragon pox," Harry smirked.

"I don't know what I am," Draco admitted, quickly.

Harry raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Sexually, I mean. I don't know what I am or what I want. Yeah, I slept with Pansy at school, and a few others as well, she didn't know about those. But now; nothing. To be honest with you, I don't miss it either. Sex and girls just haven't been a big thing for me, not so far, anyway."

"You had rather a lot going on with your family that was more important than chasing witches," Harry accurately surmised, making Draco's mouth curve into a resigned half-grimace, half-smile.

Draco felt his face begin to redden and warm, but knew he needed to get his words out, as he would not have the courage to say them the following day, in broad daylight and stone-cold sober.

"I like you, Potter. I liked you when we met again here at the beach that day. I liked you when we met at the memorial service at Hogwarts. I badgered Hermione into inviting me and you to stay so I could spend time with you."

Harry remained silent, seeing that Draco was beginning to speak faster and threatening to lose his nerve.

"I just don't know ... _how_ I like you. Not yet."

"And that's fine," Harry replied, "That's good enough for me. No one should have to stick labels on themselves. You have all the time in the world to work out what you want from life."

He stuck his hand out for Draco to shake, and the two exchanged a look as they shook hands. They did not let go. Harry gave Draco's hand a tug towards the house.

"Come on, you git, let's go to bed, I'm bloody knackered. And each in our _own_ bed, I mean. You have a lot to figure out in your head before ... well, _before anything_."

Draco allowed himself to be pulled by the strong Quidditch arm of his unexpected new friend, suddenly feeling shattered after an exceptionally long day working at the barn and a long but fun evening here at the cottage and the beach, and thinking how criminally early Teddy would be getting him up in the morning, demanding sustenance and presenting him no doubt with a sodden nappy to change.

Ah well, at least he had Potter to help him. The thought was not an entirely unpleasant one.


	57. Chapter 57

**Chapter 57**

Hermione awoke to the late-morning sun streaming through the skylight windows above them, creating an undulating dappled pattern on the ceiling. The two-way silencing charm that Severus had cast as they ascended the spiral staircase the night before prevented her hearing any sounds caused by Harry, Draco or baby Teddy downstairs, serving the dual purpose that they would not be able to hear _them_ , either. She smiled to herself.

She turned to face her slumbering wizard, this man she loved so wholly, uncharacteristically still asleep; he was almost always the first to wake out of the two of them. Propping herself up on her elbow, she took the unexpected chance to observe him truly at rest. He was flat on his back, one arm crooked and tucked behind his head, the other lightly resting upon his own torso.

His head was twisted towards her, his left cheek laying on the pillow and his fine, black hair strewn across his face, moving gently in time with his steady breathing. His raven eyelashes grazed his cheeks in an elegant sweep, and the premature lines on his face seemed somewhat reduced as he slept, even the deep furrow between his brows seemed less pronounced.

His scar was unglamoured, as he always kept it now when it was just the two of them. The remains of the snake's vicious attack that covered the right side of his neck, the edges beginning under his chin, down his throat and ending on his chest were as devastating as ever. But also, she thought to herself, testament to how hard this man had fought for his life and future, and _won_.

Many other scars littered his arms and upper chest, from small round ones that looked like pierce or burn marks, short cuts that could only have been made with a flat blade of some kind, and the tops of longer, curled ones that she knew had been caused by ropes, or curse damage.

She pushed the sheet down to his waist, exposing his full top half, his stomach and yet more scarring. And yet the longer she knew him, the less she saw the ugly wounds. She saw his strong arms and chest, slim but roped with powerful lean muscle. She saw his porcelain-white skin, interspersed with small amounts of black body hair, a body damaged but undefeated; a story written into his very skin of the wizard who had suffered so much but refused to bow down, refused to die.

She began to lightly trace across his chest, her fingertips running over and around the scars, stroking the good skin between them, caressing the damaged skin within them. He let out a small sound of pleasure, but did not appear to wake fully, for his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm beneath her touch. She began to stroke the softer hair around his belly-button, her hand moving lower, following the trail, pushing the sheet down as she went, exposing him to her gaze.

Continuing to stroke his body hair she began to coil her fingers in the black nest around his penis, gently touching the skin around his groin, and watching him begin to harden, accompanied by a quiet but definite moan of delight from his dark head on the pillow above.

She looked up and down the body of this fine wizard, _her_ fine wizard, this man with whom she felt utterly protected, making the most of this rare chance to inspect and touch his body at will. For a moment, she looked upon him as a stern Potions master, revelling in the unexpected and somewhat erotic pleasure of having her professor bared next to her in bed.

Then it changed to the familiar; the man beyond the dungeon classroom and the billowing teaching robe, the damaged but genuine Severus she had found and made her own. The diamond found in the very place where no one else would have ever thought to look. _By Merlin_ , she loved him, totally and completely.

Severus lay still under her searching hand, her little movements around his chest making all his nerve endings stand on end in delight, and her whirring train of thought, all about her feelings regarding _him_ , providing a very complimentary soundtrack inside his head.

What a pleasant way to be woken in the morning. He found himself inordinately glad of the strong two-way silencing charm he had placed upon the upper floor of the cottage, because as her hand slid lower and began to thread through his pubic hair, he thought he might pass out from the pleasure of her simple touch.

Hermione sat up, and added her other hand to Severus' body, sliding down either side of, but not touching, his erection, and gently pushing his thighs apart. She stroked her fingers down either side of his groin creases, tickling the rarely-touched skin there before moving down to the soft skin between his pale thighs. Even there he bore some painful-looking scars, well-healed but large and angry, and she caressed the tortured skin, enjoying watching as his cock began to change colour with arousal.

She slid her hand back up his inner thigh and began to tease the soft skin of his perineum, deliciously stroking the thankfully-unscarred area under his balls with his fingers, enjoying the way his hips jolted in surprise at her touch.

"I suggest, Hermione," he rumbled, his already deep voice rusty with sleep, "that you desist from your current occupation, unless you wish to be thrown on your back and fucked without mercy."

She stopped the movement of her fingers, but did not remove her hand from between his legs, allowing a wicked smile to spread across her face.

 _Yes, please_.

No sooner than she had resumed her tickling of his softest, most private skin, then he had sat bolt upright, grabbed her around the shoulders and had her laid out flat on her back and was between her legs with the head of his cock against her entrance before she had time to blink. Really, to describe his reflexes as _catlike_ would be an insult.

He loomed above her, his long hair hanging down his face, pinning her hands above her head and his volcanic eyes flashing with incensed desire as they roved hers.

"You woke me," he growled, "Was there something you wanted?"

She smiled sweetly up at him with the most innocent expression she could muster, with an erect penis between her naked thighs.

"Good morning, Professor," she teased, "I just wanted to admire your sexy body without you bothering me."

He looked flabbergasted, and she bit her lip to stop from laughing.

"Fucking teasing little witch," he admonished through gritted teeth, "I'll give you _Professor_ , Miss Granger."

He pushed hard inside her, filling her to the hilt with one thrust, making her gasp and close her eyes in pleasure.

"Open your eyes," he commanded, "look at me."

She complied, and he began to withdraw before pushing into her again. And again. And again, until he was pounding into her in a quick, regular rhythm, not losing eye contact at any point, keeping her hands held above her head, cushioned by the soft pillow.

" _I heard you_ , Granger," he hissed as he continued to fuck her into the mattress, "I heard your thoughts as you were touching me, exposing me for your own pleasure."

She craned her neck and licked the side of his face as he laboured above her.

"I'm glad you heard me."

"Never in my life has anyone thought that about me."

"Good. Then I have you all to myself."

He could not reply, could not tear his eyes from hers, as he pushed into her, withdrew, and pushed in again. She pulled her hands free from his light grip and snaked them around his neck, halting his thrusts and bringing his face close enough to hers so that she could kiss his lips.

"I mean it," she whispered, "I _won't_ be sharing."

"Sweet girl, you will never have to, I can promise you that."

He surprised her by kneeling up, keeping his cock tight inside her, and pushing her legs wide apart, squeezing each of her inner thighs and pressing them flat to the mattress. He looked at her as if he wanted to swallow her whole.

"You _are_ my sweet girl. But right now, you are a very filthy girl who uncovered me as I slumbered. For your punishment I should like to fuck you hard until you come screaming all over my cock. Are you in agreement?"

She slipped her hand between her legs and began to lightly stroke her clitoris, looking at him with such a wanton expression that it prompted him to start thrusting again. He took firm hold of her inner thighs, clenching his palms around the sensitive flesh that would most likely bruise, angled his cock upwards and began to piston into her hard and fast.

Gasping at the change in position that was now hitting her deepest pleasure centre, she used one hand to hold herself open to his view and the other to roll her clit between her fingers, the bud hardening under her touch.

Severus looked down as he fucked, incredulous at the sight before him. She had never masturbated for him before, and the sight of her diddling her own clit whilst he pounded into her was such an erotic treat he knew he would not long be able to hold back the explosion that was building inside him.

"Dirty girl," he grimaced with effort, "Dirty girl playing with herself where I can see her."

Hermione was totally aroused by both his words and actions, and not least by her own touch. She had masturbated many times by herself of course, but never in front of a partner. The complete approval and arousal across Severus' face as he watched her was something she would not forget in a hurry. The powerful wizard was slack-jawed with his eyes fixated on her fingers as she played with herself.

She watched his face and began to twist her bud, feeling herself begin to spasm, and his eyes widened, his expression contorted with lust and desire. She had honestly never felt as sexually powerful as she did at this moment, and this thought took her over the edge as her clit pulsed in her hand, her vaginal walls contracting around his invading cock.

Severus watched her orgasm, his little witch making herself come whilst impaled on the end of his prick. _Fucking Merlin_ , he loved her. She was an absolute fucking _peach_ of a witch, and he was the luckiest, most worthless bastard in the entire world. He drilled through the spasms of her pussy and unsurprisingly shot his load within a few seconds more, giving her all he had, and more, hips unable to slow their movement until he was fully spent.

Finally, with a long, loud groan, he allowed his softened penis to slide out of her, and collapsed to the side, where he summoned his wand and cast two charms, one to cleanse them of the sticky residue of both their orgasms, and the other to open the skylight windows to allow a cooling breeze to circulate around the room and begin to blow around their sweating, overheated bodies.

At length, when they were both more comfortable and had regained the use of their lungs, he turned towards her.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Severus?"

"When I asked you to bond with me, I am correct in remembering that you did indeed say yes?"

She smiled, reaching out a hand to stroke his chest.

"You are correct. Why?"

"I was merely confirming that I am the luckiest wizard in England, and possibly the entire world."

Hermione accio'ed the missing sheet, and floated it over them before dropping it down, the cool cotton soothing against their hot skin, and then cupped his familiar face in her hand.

"Likewise," she replied, dropping a soft, warm kiss to his mouth.

She really was _outstanding_.

\- xxx –

Harry and Draco had given up on waiting for Hermione and Severus to join them, and since Teddy had been up since sparrow's fart they had pilfered breakfast from the well-stocked kitchen, Harry observing that the provisions must be Snape's work, and headed down to the beach with a bucket and spade that Draco had transfigured, fairly poorly, from two kitchen mugs.

Teddy had turned his hair the natural sandy blond again as they walked down the low cliffside, calling out _Bshh, bshh_ , as he tottered along the path.

"He's definitely saying beach, you know," Harry remarked.

"Of course he is," Draco agreed, "Severus doesn't know what he's talking about."

They had set up a base of sorts using towels from a basket in Hermione's bathroom, and Teddy was puttering around playing with the bucket and spade, mostly throwing sand around since he didn't understand the concept of filling the bucket with it.

Draco looked up, and tapped Harry lightly on the arm.

"Finally," he said, his eyes indicating upwards.

They could see Severus, dressed; standing by the back fence of the cottage, large mug in hand that was no doubt full of coffee, looking out at the sea. He seemed to see them, but did not make any attempt to acknowledge his guests.

"Typical Snape," Harry muttered, "Rude as ever."

"You don't expect him to _wave_ , do you Potter?"

Harry laughed.

"I suppose not. He's not really a waver, is he?"

Both of them chuckled, making Teddy join in, which made them laugh even more.

Looking back up the cliff, they saw that Hermione had joined him at the fence, and was holding him around his waist, her head resting upon his chest as he swigged from the mug.

"Just how did those those two get together? I've got to be honest, I really want to know how on earth it even happened in the first place," Draco mused.

"I can honestly say I have no bloody idea," Harry replied.

"Got to be something significant though, he's got Granger eating out of his hand, and Merlin knows where else," Draco said darkly, indicating back towards the cottage where Severus and Hermione were now locked in a full-on snog, the coffee mug forgotten and perched upon the fence post.

Harry wrinkled his nose and mouth in distaste at the sight of his best friend _going at it_ with his formerly hated professor.

"He looks like he's eating her, doesn't he?"

"Ah, come on, I doubt he's had much practice. You can't expect him to be proficient straight away."

Both boys looked up again, to where Severus had turned Hermione slightly so that her back was towards the beach, and was flicking them a very definite two-fingered salute behind her and in their direction.

His innate spy and teacher's instinct of knowing when someone was talking about him was as strong as ever.

\- xxx -

In the late afternoon, the four of them plus Teddy were still on the beach, enjoying the last of the day's sun. Hermione had persuaded Severus to wear one of his charcoal-grey fitted tshirts rather than cover up in long sleeves, to allow some good healthy rays to warm his pale skin.

Draco had not batted an eyelid, but Harry had been unable to stop himself from staring at the scars that littered Severus' arms, which did not go unnoticed by any of them.

"I suggest you familiarise yourself with these scars, Potter, since a great many of them were earned in the protection of _you_."

Harry blushed scarlet and looked most distressed, and Draco placed a consoling hand on his shoulder.

"Severus," he admonished, "that is not fair. Harry didn't ask nor expect you to go to the lengths you did."

Snape looked at his apprentice in surprise.

"I would have thought, Mr Malfoy, that you might share my opinion, since you personally witnessed so many of these being inflicted upon me."

Now it was Draco's turn to colour, as Severus brought up their shared Death Eater meetings and Revels where such torture and punishment had been prevalent.

"The war is behind us," Hermione said, quietly.

"None of us are proud of the things we did, things we were forced to do, or of things we did _not_ do. It has left scars on all of us, both mental and physical. But all of us are _alive_ , here to live the lives we fought to keep, or the lives we were previously denied. If we cannot move on, leave the past where it belongs, then we are all stuck there, like prisoners."

The three wizards fell silent, looking at the innocent face of Teddy Lupin as he slept in his godfather's arms, worn out by a day running around on the sand. The young baby had lost all he had, orphaned of two loving parents as a cost of the war they had all fought. This child had suffered as much as any of them, and did not even know it yet.

There was an unspoken, tacit agreement to leave the subject, broken by Draco doing another of his sprints towards the water, like a sprite set free from captivity and wanting to enjoy the feel of the open sea. Harry began to pass the sleeping Teddy to Hermione so that he could join Draco in the water, and was surprised by Severus reaching out his arms to take the infant, whom he cradled unexpectedly competently.

Harry sped down the beach and the two young wizards began to swim away from the shore, striking through the water in a way they could not do whilst in charge of Teddy. They looked happy, and free, both of them.

Hermione snuggled up next to Severus, kissing the top of Teddy's golden head as it rested upon the scarred, pale arm, held safe and secure by the most protective man she had ever known.

\- xxx -

The following day, having received a Floo call from Ron inviting everyone to Sunday lunch, Draco and Harry were packing up their bags, and Teddy's mass of paraphernalia, whilst Severus tried to persuade Hermione out of a Weasley luncheon and to stay at the cottage _in the quiet_ , he said pointedly.

She could see his point, he had probably reached his limit of _social_ this weekend, and he really had done inordinately well having their private retreat invaded for the last two days.

Harry had set off through the Floo with Teddy, and Draco had tossed all the bags through with him, as he was planning to return briefly to Malfoy Manor to collect a case of good wine from his father's cellars and a bottle of oak-matured mead as gifts.

"I'm impressed with your manners, Draco," Hermione smiled as he bid her farewell and thanked her for having him to stay.

" _I'm_ not," grumbled Severus, "I also hosted you, Draco, where is my gift of Lucius' best purloined firewhisky?"

The young, blond wizard smirked.

"Your gift is my company, Severus, you know you love it," he teased, enjoying the affronted expression on his employer's face.

"However, since I'll be in the cellars, I'm sure I can dig out a bottle of Old Ogden's and I'll bring it to the barn tomorrow."

Severus gave a mock-gracious nod of approval.

"I would like that, thank you. My regards to your parents."

"Just Father," Draco replied, stepping over the grate and scooping up a handful of Floo powder, "Mother is in Paris for a long weekend; clothes and jewellery shopping with a number of friends. She will return tomorrow morning."

"Lucius should be nice and depressed then," Severus smirked, unkindly, "he will be glad to see you home early, no doubt, before you swan off again and leave him for a Weasley Sunday lunch."

The most curious expression crossed Draco's face, a blend of anger combined with fear, which was at odds with the sun-and-wind healthy glow he had picked up from the hours on the beack. Without replying, he threw the powder into the flames, which blazed a crackling green as he called out _Malfoy Manor_ before stepping through.

\- xxx –

Draco arrived in the main drawing room of his family home, the room empty, silent and draughty as always. He expected to hear the heavy footfall of his father, effectively caged at home in his suppressing cuffs, no magical means of transportation or indeed, any magical ability, available to him for the remaining four years of his five year sentence.

Stepping out into the cavernous main entrance hall, the gleaming black-and-white chequered floor at odds with the darkwood walls, he could still hear nothing, not even the scamper of an attending house-elf. He stood still and listened, not wanting to call out and alert his father to his return unnecessarily, especially as he was about to thieve from his personal wine cellar.

Suddenly, he heard the scrape of the table in the dining room across the entrance hall. _Damn_. His father must be finishing a late breakfast, or an early lunch, it was difficult to tell, since Lucius spent most of his time eating and drinking nowadays, for want of anything more constructive to do. He was bound to be even more depressed this weekend, with Narcissa being away.

He walked noiselessly across the marble-floored hall, forcing himself to push open the dining room door and greet his father, something he tried to do as little as possible, nowadays.

He stopped dead in the open doorway. Lucius Malfoy was certainly serving himself from the dining table, but it was in no way to breakfast, or even lunch.

No, his father was standing at the head of the table, trousers pushed down around his ankles, buried balls-deep inside of Andromeda, his sister-in-law and Draco's aunt. From her position, flat on her back on the table with her skirts around her waist and her enthusiastic cries, she was a willing participant.

Draco watched for a few seconds, just to make sure he was actually witnessing what he thought he was, before sheer disgust guided his next action.

"What in _fucking Merlin_ are you two doing?" he shouted, standing bold upright in the doorway.

He was briefly satisfied by seeing them both metaphorically shit themselves at the sound of his voice and extricate their sexual organs from one another, tucking their genitals away quickly, thankfully, but this satisfaction quickly turned to fear as his oppressive father came storming towards him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Lucius demanded, pressing his hand into his son's chest and pushing him against the wooden doorframe.

"I live here, father, or had you forgotten?"

"Do not give me smooth answers, Draco," he snarled, in an unctuous manner, "you advised me that you were going to be away all weekend, goodness knows where, but all weekend nonetheless."

"I'm going for lunch with the Weas ... _with a witch_ ," he corrected, quickly, "I came back to nick some wine."

He felt the tip of a wand poke against his neck.

"And where is my grandson?" accused Andromeda, twisting the point of the wand against his throat.

"What do you care?" Draco threw at her, pushing her wand away from his neck and moving out of his father's grasp.

"What do either of you care? You just wanted an empty house so you could _fuck_ – cheating on your wife and your sister! You disgust me, both of you," he spat, looking them both up and down.

"You will not tell your mother about this, Draco," Lucius told him, in an irritatingly calm manner.

"Try and stop me."

Lucius shot out his hand and slapped Draco around the head, causing him to stumble and a red handprint to appear on his pale cheek.

"You will not tell her _anything_ , you little parasite. If you wish to remain living here under my roof, living off my Galleons, you will keep your filthy mouth shut."

"How long has this been going on?" Draco demanded, rubbing the side of his face, and looking between his aunt and his father.

"Long enough," Andromeda replied, unabashed.

"You mean; you started on your sister's husband after Severus turned you down. Which he was right to do; you marriage wrecking bitch!"

She cast a speedy stinging hex upon him, knocking him off his feet with the severity.

"You will keep a civil tongue in your head, Draco. Now go to your room and calm down," his father told him coolly, indicating the stairs with an elegantly arched eyebrow.

Draco was incensed, both at what he had discovered, and his aunt and his father's attitude.

What had Hermione said earlier, that if they did not move forward, put the past behind them; they were all prisoners. He'd had enough, enough of being Lucius Malfoy's fucking puppet boy. He had no idea what was about to happen, but it was time.

 _It was well past time._

He stood up, now the same height as his father, and faced Lucius down, their identical ice-blue eyes trained on each other.

"Parasite?" he began, "I'm a parasite? I'm not a parasite, Father, I'm a fucking prisoner. I always have been!"

Lucius opened his mouth to retort, but was stunned to silence by Draco angrily rolling up his left sleeve to expose his Dark Mark.

"This, Father dear, _this_! Branded upon me before I was even of age; burned into my flesh at _your_ request, because you were too shit-scared to stand up to Tom Riddle, who _you_ joined in the first place. And we all fucking paid for that decision, didn't we? Me and Mother, we paid the price for your fucking idiocy!"

"How dare you, Draco," Lucius hissed, fury in his cold eyes.

"I dare, Father! I dare because there is nothing else left to do! I stay here and rot, like you, or I dare to step outside the prison you have created for me through your lust for power and your cowardice."

"If you leave, you do not ever return."

"Like that would be a big loss."

"Your Mother would not countenance your leaving. I will not allow it."

"What are you going to do? You have no magic," he jeered, "you are powerless, impotent, although sadly not in the sexual sense, considering what I just witnessed on mother's dining room table!"

He stepped towards his father, confidence growing by the second, excitement that he could actually free himself, building. He jabbed the bloated man in his chest with a single finger.

"You cannot touch me," he sneered.

Lucius swung a punch at his son's face, missing wildly.

"He can't, but I can."

They had both forgotten Andromeda's presence, and turned to look at her, her wand raised and aimed at Draco.

" _Crucio_!"

Draco fell to the floor, his body contorting into unnatural shapes as his Aunt Dromeda cast the Cruciatus, an Unforgiveable Curse, against her nephew.

After a few seconds she released the spell, and he lay convulsing on the floor, conscious of only his father's boot landing on his chest, his spine, his face, any part of his son he could make contact with, his frustration and ire venting forth in every kick.

"We cannot allow him to tell Narcissa, Lucius. We will lose everything, all we have planned."

 _We? Things planned?_

Draco was confused, trying to make sense of his aunt's words as blood poured from his mouth and nose. He had the good sense to protect his head with his hands, but then screamed as Andromeda cast a second _Crucio_ upon him, his bladder releasing and his body wracked with painful convulsions.

They were actually going to kill him, or at the very least do enough damage to ensure he kept their secret. He had no idea, and his biggest concern was losing consciousness and being at their full mercy. He began to crawl away from his abusers, trying to remember what he had been doing and where he had been going before this happened.

Teddy. Beach. Potter. Lunch. Weasley house. Burrow. _The Burrow_. The Burrow!

He concentrated harder than he had ever done on his destination, twisting himself over on the floor rather than turning on the spot, but it still worked. He cracked out of Malfoy Manor, feeling bones break as he was pulled through the sucking vacuum of apparition.

He landed in a shattered heap outside a large wooden gate in a thicket of overgrown grass, bleeding and shaking.

The last thing he remembered before passing out was a girl screaming.


	58. Chapter 58

**Chapter 58**

Severus and Hermione were just setting the living room back in order, the way _they_ liked it, not the way Teddy would have it looking, when they were startled by the green whoosh of a Floo-call, and Ron Weasley's head appearing in the fire, looking panicked and urgent.

"Hermione! Hermione are you there?"

She walked over to the fireplace, answering her red-headed friend as she went.

"Yes, we're here. What's the matter, Ron, are you alright?"

"Draco," he puffed, "Draco just landed at the Burrow gate. Hermione, we're not sure if he's dead. Come quickly, both of you. I've opened the connection, come _now_."

They shot a glance at one another, Severus' face darkening and the shutters coming down over his expressive eyes closing off all emotion, as she had seen him do many times before, as a way to protect himself. He gestured towards the fire without a word, indicating that she should step through first, and that he would follow.

They crossed the grate into the warm kitchen of the Burrow, for once Molly Weasley was not at the stove cooking food for her enormous brood. Arthur was in the living room with Teddy and Keah, holding them one in each of his arms, a serious expression on his kindly face.

Ron was already out of the kitchen door into the garden, and they followed him. As they strode the length of the garden, Hermione doubling her steps to keep pace with the long-legged wizards, she could see a body lying prone on the floor, the white-blond hair glinting in the sun confirming it was indeed Draco that was injured.

Harry was kneeling at his head, tracks of hot tears running down his face behind his glasses, cradling his friend's golden head in his hands in an attempt to prevent further damage being done, as Draco was convulsing wildly on the hard, coarse ground. Hermione could see already the blood dripping from Harry's knuckles as his hands were scraping on the floor, although it was difficult to tell whose blood was whose, as Draco's face was bleeding badly.

Molly was kneeling in the dirt at his far side, her wand hard at work, a look of intense concentration and determination in her eyes. Ginny was standing beside her, an armful of bandages, potions and other healing supplies that she had no doubt been bidden by Molly to obtain from the house.

Severus closed the final distance between them to stand beside Draco's writhing body, wordlessly raising his eyebrows to Mrs Weasley for her to explain, and quickly.

"I think it must be Cruciatus, Severus. Nothing else would cause these convulsions. He has a broken wrist and cheekbone, since he's partly unconscious I have mended those, and he has significant bruising to his lower spine, although the diagnostic I cast suggests nothing further is broken."

Molly spoke quickly, trying to convey as much information as she could in the minimum amount of words.

Severus looked over Draco once, his expression grave.

"It most certainly is Cruciatus," he replied in a quiet tone, "Hermione, please would you go to the Barn and collect from my personal potions cabinet a deep purple brew, bring the whole bottle, and several individual vials of the bright blue tremor relief potion that I take when ... well, you are aware, the one I take when my own Cruciatus tremor is bad. Could you also collect my pensieve from the sideboard in the living room, and an empty, unused vial."

She nodded, and since they were already standing in the Burrow's apparition point beyond the gate, twisted into a precise apparition directly into the tiny porch of Severus' barn. She had no time to waste on wondering what on earth had happened to Draco; first they needed to heal him.

She ran up the stairs two at a time, to the small cabinet in the bathroom when Severus kept potions for their own personal use. Collecting exactly what he had asked for and stowing them in her pockets, she then walked over to the large cabinet in the sitting area near their bed, opened one of the doors and extracted the platter-sized stone pensieve that they had used together so many times. Holding it tightly to her chest, she sped back downstairs and had apparated back to the Burrow within five minutes.

Severus had rolled up his shirt-sleeves and was casting his own diagnostics whilst watching Molly complete her mending of Draco's broken bones, no doubt the mother of seven had healed far more than her share of fractures and broken limbs over the years; she was the most competent for the job. Ginny was bandaging his wrist to keep the repair protected, and Harry was still at Draco's head, trying to hold it steady but as gently as possible.

She handed Severus the potions he had requested, and he gave her a nod of thanks. There would be time enough for words later. She wasn't sure if he realised that the main scar on his neck, the one from Nagini that he always kept covered, was unglamoured due to their quick exit from the cottage. He didn't betray any awareness or self-consciousness, and certainly no one else was taking any notice.

"I need him awake and conscious to swallow these potions. He is going to be in a great deal of pain when I wake him. Potter, hold his head steady," Severus directed, before pointing his wand at his apprentice.

 _Rennervate._

Draco opened his blue eyes; a look of fear and confusion filled them before the realisation of the pain took hold and clouded his vision.

"Draco," Severus spoke to him in a firm voice, "You are safe here. I can heal you, but I need you to swallow these potions. This first one is to stop your convulsions."

He took a single vial of the bright blue Cruciatus relief and uncorked it with one practised hand, tipping the full contents into the boy's mouth.

"Swallow," he instructed, and with great effort, Draco complied.

Almost immediately the convulsions began to slow to an intermittent twitch. Severus observed him for a few seconds, then uncorked a second vial and repeated his actions, and the twitch dissipated to nothing. He then picked up the dark purple liquid, a much larger bottle, and Hermione saw Molly's eye narrow in disapproval.

"Narcotics, Severus?"

"It is the only thing that will relieve his pain at the present time. The aftershocks of a _Crucio_ can be ... exquisite agony."

Molly decided that this was not the moment to question further, after all, no one could no more about the pain of the Cruciatus Curse than Severus Snape, and passed him a measuring phial to extract a dose from the large bottle. He drew up the viscous liquid, which bubbled viciously as it was introduced to the air, and dropped in into Draco's mouth with some difficulty, as the boy's teeth were gritted with pain.

Hermione saw Harry gently caress the sides of Draco's face with his thumbs, whispering something, and at length he was able to unclench his jaw and take in the narcotic potion, swallowing it quickly, and as he did so, his eyes began to droop in relief and tiredness.

"Draco," Severus said sharply, "Do not sleep yet. Before you succumb I need you to give me the memory of what happened to you. It could be that Aurors need to be summoned and I cannot do this without your testimony. Bring the memory of your assault to the front of your mind and release it, tears will suffice. You do not have the strength to extract your own memory using your wand."

Everyone's eyes went to Draco's broken wand, which was lying next to him, splintered into three pieces. Severus had indeed been correct not to mention it _just_ at that moment.

Draco's eyes began to fill with tears as he followed his mentor's instructions. Hermione watched Severus hold the empty vial she had brought under the drops and collect them in the form of silvery memory which began to swirl inside the glass. She was reminded of Harry collecting Severus' memories after he had been attacked, and stealing a glance at Ron, she could see he remembered that moment too, from the distressed look on his face.

Severus sat back on his heels, stoppering the bottle.

"Sleep," he instructed, and Draco's eyes fell gratefully closed, the bruising from his broken cheekbone spreading wickedly up his face and around one of his eyelids, his nose bloody and swollen. Molly began to gently clean the blood away from his face, and from his neck where it had dripped down.

"That dose of pain potion will allow him between three and four hours of uninterrupted sleep. After that he will wake, and will need another, and possibly a further dose of the Cruciatus relief also, if the convulsions return. I will view the memory now. Do you have a room where he can safely rest, Molly?"

"Of course," Mrs Weasley replied, using her wand to expertly levitate the slim wizard from the ground, and it was joined by Harry's to keep Draco level as she began to transfer him into the house.

Severus took the pensieve over to the outside table, sat on the wooden bench alongside it and settled himself before pouring the vial of memory that Draco had just released into the stone bowl and dropping his black head into the shimmering surface. He did not ask anyone to join him.

Hermione turned towards Ron and Ginny, the only two remaining outside, and the three of them collected up the blood-stained cloths, empty vials, and the remains of Draco's shattered wand before heading inside to the kitchen, walking past the curious sight of Severus Snape sat unmoving with his head immersed in a bowl, and seating themselves at the long kitchen table.

Ron accio'ed four bottles of Butterbeer from the shelf, giving his sister and friend one each, keeping one himself, and sending the fourth across the room to his father, who caught it gratefully, and was delightedly playing with the two babies on the living room carpet, amusing them by making Molly's ornament and knick-knacks dance around in a little circle.

"So what happened?"

Hermione didn't waste time on preamble. Draco had only left her cottage less than half-an-hour before Ron had called them through the fire, and she wondered what on earth could have happened in such a short space of time.

"I was in the garden with Keah, just me at that point, I'm only home for the weekend so I was enjoying having my niece all to myself," Ginny began, with a small smile.

"All of a sudden there was a crack of apparition beyond the gate, nothing strange about that, and I looked up to see who it was. Rather than someone come to visit, Draco just dropped onto the ground, literally as if someone had plonked him there from a great height out of thin air. He didn't call out, or make a noise. It scared the life out of me."

"We heard her screaming," Ron continued, "so we all rushed outside, Mum had made me, Harry and Dad pre-lunch bacon sandwiches so we were all sitting round the kitchen table, Ted was toddling around us."

"They ran straight past me," Ginny took up the next part.

"I was holding Keah so I couldn't run; I just pointed towards the gate. Harry got there first, he was screaming Draco's name. Dad saw what was going on, and he turned back towards the house, telling Ron to floo-call the two of you, Hermione, and taking Keah from me. He took Teddy as well, keeping the babies away from what was going on. Mum shouted at me to bring her healing supplies, which I grabbed and brought back to her as fast as could, and when I returned she was already casting diagnostics and had mended the bone in his cheek."

"That's pretty much when we all got there," Ron finished, "and I suppose Snape, er, Sev ...er, well, he's going to find out what caused it once he gets his head out of the pensieve."

"I just don't understand," Hermione mused, aloud.

"Draco only left my house half an hour before you called me. He was returning to Malfoy Manor to get some wine, I think, and check on his father, and then coming straight here for lunch. What in Merlin's name could have happened in such a short space of time, and in such severity?"

" _Crucio_ , Hermione," Ron said, darkly, "I don't like the sound of that at all."

Ginny visibly winced, having been on the receiving end of the Cruciatus Curse from the Carrows during her sixth year at Hogwarts, before the war.

"I suppose we'll find out soon enough," she replied, neutrally, "once Severus has finished with the pensieve."

" _Severus_ ," Ginny sniggered at her use of Snape's first name.

"Not the time, Ginevra," Hermione admonished.

"It's _always_ time for a bit of piss-taking," she smirked, "and talking of which, Harry was a bit over the top about Draco being injured. I mean, we were all shocked, but he was almost _devastated_. What's going on, are they together now?"

Hermione was surprised at her matter of fact tone, and at the complete lack of surprise upon Ron's face.

"He told us," Ron explained, "he told us that he and Gin had split up a while back, and the reason behind it was because he's gay. Didn't know he fancied bloody _Malfoy_ though, the git."

"I figured that out as soon as you said it was _him_ that Harry was bringing from Hermione's to Sunday lunch, Ron," Ginny told him, witheringly.

"You did?" Ron looked confused.

"Of course," she replied, rolling her eyes at her brother's stupidity, "why else would they have spent the weekend together?"

"Well," Ron blustered, "well I don't really want to think about it, to be honest with you. That's bloody disgusting."

"You thought Harry snogging _me_ was _bloody disgusting_ too, Ronald, remember?"

"Maybe you don't like the thought Harry snogging _anyone_ , Ron?" Hermione teased, "Perhaps you want him all to yourself?"

"That's bloody disgusting too!" Ron said, indignantly, taking a long, deep swig of his butterbeer to avoid having to say anything else.

The two witches laughed. You could always rely on Ron Weasley for a bit of light relief in a tense situation. How he had ever managed to sire a child when the thought of everyone snogging was so _bloody disgusting_ they had no idea.

They were still smirking when Severus strode into the house, and looked up expectantly.

"We shall indeed need to summon the Aurors, and as quickly as possible."

\- xxx –

Hours later when the Aurors finally left, with the darkness fallen and all thoughts of Sunday lunch long-forgotten, they were sitting around the Weasley living room with mugs of hot cocoa and plates of buttered toast, hunger finally making itself heard. Harry had left Draco sleeping in the twins' old room after his second dose of pain relief, having settled Teddy in a transfigured cot alongside the bed in his own room. Ron had put Keah to bed, and was sitting with Ginny on the floor before the fire, Severus was upright in a high-backed armchair, and Hermione was cross-legged on the floor between his legs, enjoying the feeling of his steady hands resting upon her shoulders, as much for his reassurance as her own.

From the large squashy sofa where she sat alongside her husband, who was absently but affectionately stroking her hand, Molly's face was etched with fatigue and tension as they recounted the happenings of the last few hours.

Severus had verbally shared Draco's memory with them all, of him finding his father in a compromising position with his aunt, and of their subsequent attack on him. All had been shocked apart from Severus, who privately distrusted Lucius Malfoy and thought this was fairly typical behaviour, excepting the attack on his only son, which seemed unnecessarily violent, even for Lucius.

Upon viewing the evidence, the Aurors had dispatched a team to Malfoy Manor to arrest Lucius, who would be unable to leave the property by any magical means due to the suppression cuffs that he wore. Apparently he had not attempted to leave the estate or even hide or deny, expressing surprise that his son would have reported his actions to the Ministry. He had been swiftly advised that the crime had been reported by those who had discovered Draco and saved his son's life. Apparently this had chastened his protests somewhat.

Arthur explained, having been deeply involved with the court cases at the Ministry following the end of the war, that since Lucius had escaped Azkaban so tenuously for his crimes as a Death Eater, that this attack was likely to see him imprisoned for a significant amount of time as his previous record would be counted against him.

"Best place for him," mumbled Ron, "he should have been there in the first place."

Of Andromeda Tonks-Black, there had been no sign. She had fled Malfoy Manor by magical means, and was not at her own home. Her house had been secured to alert the Aurors should she attempt to return, and a warrant had been issued for her immediate arrest for the use of an Unforgiveable curse. Her current whereabouts, however, and the reason for her involvement with her brother-in-law, were a mystery.

This of course left the issue of Teddy Lupin, for whom she was the sole guardian.

"I'll take him," Harry had said to the Aurors, immediately.

"I'm his godfather, and he will stay with me. He has no other family."

The magical record of the change in guardianship had been arranged instantly, given that even if she was found, his grandmother Andromeda would be imprisoned for her use of the Cruciatus. A document was magically filed in the Ministry archives which stated that Harry James Potter was now the sole and legal guardian of Edward Remus Lupin until he reached the age of seventeen.

As the official guardianship scroll had rolled itself up with a golden flourish in the middle of the Weasley kitchen, Harry had hugged the small boy to his chest, whispering promises of love and protection into his tiny ears, creating a bond between them that he would never allow to be broken. There was no doubt he was thinking of Sirius, and how life should have been for himself and his own godfather, had he not been wrongly convicted and sent to Azkaban.

Hermione had looked at her two best friends with a mixture of pride and concern. Both of them; parents before they were out of their teens. Who would have ever thought it?

The Aurors had not been able to contact Narcissa Malfoy in Paris, but had left word with the house-elves at Malfoy Manor that she was to contact the Auror department urgently upon her return.

The huge estate had been searched from top to bottom by a large team of Aurors, concerned by the section of Draco's memory that referred to _plans_ being made. None of them currently present in the living room had been told what, if anything, had been found, but both Harry and Severus had been called to a meeting with the Head of the Auror Office the following afternoon.

This had led to a large amount of conjecture amongst themselves as to what may, or may not, have been going on between Lucius Malfoy and Andromeda Black, apart from the extra-marital sex, of course. The suggestions had ranged from a simple case of Malfoy cheating on his wife, to him styling himself as the second Voldemort and attempting to take over the wizarding world.

Severus had remained silent. In the deepest recesses of his heart, he was worried. Lucius liked to style himself as a cowardly idiot, a turncoat who bent whichever way the wind was blowing; changing sides whenever he smelt victory. But he knew Malfoy was far more than that. Lucius was shrewdly intelligent, power-hungry, and hugely self-serving. Why, he even ordered his only son be branded with the Dark Mark before he was even of age, in an attempt to save his own skin and further his ascension to power flying under the wing of the Dark Lord.

No, Lucius Malfoy was not to be _at all_ underestimated.

Most of the Death Eaters had been killed during the war or arrested after the final battle, but there were still a small number unaccounted for. What the Ministry didn't know, or refused to accept, was that _in addition_ to this small number, were the supporters that had not been Marked; but were still at large, still believing and trusting in Voldemort's warped ideals. The Snatchers, the giants, the trolls, the werewolves, the nasty little shape-shifters and even the Acromantula could be recruited and sent into action by someone _insane_ enough to rally them.

He leaned forward, and whispered in Hermione's ear that he wanted to go home. The two of them said their goodbyes, asking to be kept aware of Draco's condition, and advising that they could be called at any time of the day or night if they were needed.

They returned to the cottage rather than the barn, as was usual for a Sunday night. Severus would not be working the following day due to his appointment at the Auror Office, and all their immediate personal belongings were still merrily ad-hoc in the small beach house.

Apparating directly into the bedroom, they stripped off their clothes and fell into their bed, for it truly was _their_ bed now, and met in the middle, their naked bodies embracing not for sex but for comfort and reassurance. Severus stroked his large hands up and down her back, needing the feel of her warm skin under his fingertips and across his palms. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent and kissing her scalp, her ear, her neck.

"I love you," he whispered, hoarsely. "I love you beyond all else, Hermione."

"I love you too, Severus, and I am here for you. I will not let you go."

"Do not ever let me go."

"I promise I never will."

He felt her press herself against him, her warmth soothing him, the steady beat of her heart lulling him gently to sleep, safe in the arms of the only person he had ever trusted in his entire life.


	59. Chapter 59

**Chapter 59**

Harry and Severus sat across the large, untidy desk that belonged to the Head of the Auror Office, a huge beast of a man with a sweaty forehead, hands like hams and a neck so wide it looked as if the collar of his robes were constricting his breathing.

Both listened intently as the intimidating-looking wizard had briefly outlined his reasons for calling them in; Harry leaning forward with his elbows on the desk like a student, Severus leaning into the back of the chair in an attempt to convey nonchalance. It was not normal protocol, the Head Auror warned, to provide explanations of Auror activity to citizens, but it had been agreed at the highest level that both Severus and Harry were rather more than ordinary wizarding citizens, when it came to the matter of national security and possible Death Eater threats.

They were asked to confirm that Draco Malfoy was currently incapacitated and recovering from the attack upon him, and also that they would convey the outcome of this meeting to Draco, once he was considered well enough to comprehend the findings. The Head Auror did not suggest at any point that Draco would have been better at St Mungo's, indicating that he was more than happy to keep the attack out of the Daily Prophet.

The ugly man, whose fierce bulldog face reminded Severus amusingly of Fluffy, that bloody beast of a three-headed dog that had once taken a chunk out of his shin, leaned forwards, placing both his large, sweaty palms on the surface of his own desk, and began to address them.

"Lucius Malfoy has been remanded in Ministry custody, pending further investigations into possible Dark activity that our sensors picked up on our search of his manor home. He appears _very_ keen to co-operate with us, indeed, to provide _any_ information that may keep him out of Azkaban."

"I bet he does," Harry snarled, his Gryffindor nature already becoming easily riled. Severus did not make comment.

"He currently denies any wrongdoing, other than the assault on his son, of course, although this is at odds with our findings, which showed traces of recent dark magic having taken place on the premises, along with the recent presence of several Dark Marks."

Severus could not contain the audible gasp of breath that he took through both his mouth and nose at the same time, making Harry look up in alarm.

"You have such intelligence capabilities?" he questioned.

"We do. We must not discount the fact that both Lucius and Draco Malfoy are bearers of the Dark Mark, but notwithstanding their Marks, the presence appeared to be much greater. Excuse me for asking, but since you are ... since you have ... _you know_ ..."

Severus rolled his eyes at this apparently intelligent, powerful Auror stuttering over a simple question. This did not bode well.

"I bear a Dark Mark; I believe we are all aware of that. No, I have not spent any time at Malfoy Manor for many a month now," he snapped in annoyance, rubbing unconsciously at the underside of his left arm.

"So, either your readings are incorrect, or Malfoy is lying," Harry surmised, looking tense and determined.

"Exactly, Mr Potter."

He paused, flicking his eyes around his office as if checking the rest of his staff were indeed working diligently.

"The plans that Mr Malfoy spoke of, that we viewed in the pensieve memory, were plans that he had made with his wife's sister."

Severus raised an eyebrow to indicate the Auror should continue, lifting his hand to cup his chin, his elbow remaining on the arm of the wooden chair.

"Andromeda Black is pregnant with Lucius Malfoy's child."

Neither of them replied, so he continued.

"Mr Malfoy told us, quite candidly, that his son Draco is an unpleasant man, a drain on the family. He sees this baby as a chance to make a new life, prove his worth, restore the good name of Malfoy, and re-assert their status in wizarding society."

Harry was incensed, and stuttered over his words.

"That's a load of shit. Draco has been treated _like_ shit by his father. He is disgusted by what his father has become and is trying to make a career for himself in Potions with Sna ... with Severus, so that he can move out and have nothing to do with his dad any more."

"I can concur with Mr Potter's statement. Draco Malfoy is a hardworking apprentice and employee, who appears to be appalled by, and possibly even frightened of, his father. And what of Narcissa Malfoy, how does she feature in the grand family plans of Lucius and Andromeda?"

The Head Auror paused, and a grave look crossed his wide face.

"We were unable to locate Mrs Malfoy in the wizarding hotel she had booked to stay in, in Paris. The goblin concierge confirms that Mrs Malfoy never arrived. Upon checking the international portkey that she had booked, we found that it was never used."

"So she must still be in England then," Harry replied, quickly, "but why would she say she was going to Paris and then not go? Don't say _she's_ having an affair as well?"

Even before he had finished speaking, the Auror was shaking his head, gravely. Severus felt a jolt of fear hit him in the gut, a fear that he hadn't felt since he faced down Tom Riddle in the Shrieking Shack.

"Mr Potter," the Auror turned to Harry, "Here in the Ministry archives there is a record of every witch or wizard born, married or deceased. These are magically recorded when the marriage contract is signed, when a baby takes its first breath ... or when a person takes their last."

He looked at Severus and Harry, as if they could work out the rest for themselves. Severus decided to speed the conversation along.

"Are you saying that Narcissa Malfoy is now recorded as deceased in the Ministry archives?"

"She is."

"And you suspect foul play?"

"We do. Mrs Malfoy was booked into a wizarding hotel in Paris to which she did not arrive. She had ordered and paid for an International Portkey which she never took. Lucius Malfoy and Andromeda Black are expecting an illegitimate child, which they intend to raise together as a Malfoy. With the exception of an unlikely sudden natural death, it seems that Mrs Malfoy is a victim of murder. She was dead before she had a chance to leave the country."

"Lucius engaged Death Eaters to kill her," Severus replied, coolly.

"This is our theory, Professor. However, of course he denies this. His story is that his wife was going to Paris to spend some time away from him as she was considering divorce. He states that he wanted his wife to divorce _him_ , so that he would retain all titles to Malfoy Manor. He insists he is guilty of nothing other than infidelity, and is expressing regret over his hot-headed behaviour towards his son, which he insists was borne of shock at being discovered, and his continuing frustration with young Mr Malfoy's behaviour."

"He is lying," Severus retorted, his manner brusque and curt.

"We can't prove it. As he is magically suppressed he cannot release a memory for the pensieve, and it is likely that even if we removed the cuffs for that purpose, he would not release information in a memory that would incriminate himself."

Harry made a _tcchhh_ of frustration and fidgeted in his chair.

"So we've just got to wait until something happens, then, til someone else gets killed?" he practically yelled, his famous temper not taking much to provoke it into action.

"We are currently searching for the body of Narcissa Malfoy, and for the whereabouts of Andromeda Tonks."

"And that's all you can do?"

"Malfoy Manor is currently in control of the Ministry. It will be continuously monitored for the arrival or presence of anyone bearing a Dark Mark. Should Lucius Malfoy be permanently incarcerated, ownership of the estate will pass in full to Draco."

"Draco hates it there," Harry muttered, under his breath.

The Auror opted not to respond, and instead began a summary of their conversation.

"We have to accept that the remaining Death Eaters are at large, and are a threat to a peaceful society. We can only assume, that given your roles in the war, that both of you would be prime targets for attacks of retribution."

Severus wanted to roll his eyes like a petulant teenager and reply, _Really? You don't say!_

"I take measures every day to protect myself from retribution from those who would do me harm," he offered instead, his black eyes fixed on the wizard whose job title promised so much, but in reality could offer them almost nothing, certainly not the protection they needed. He could depend only upon himself.

"Mr Potter is protected here at work, in the training department of this office."

"For the times he is _not_ at work, I will place appropriate additional protections around the residences of Mr Potter, and his new charge. You are aware, of course, that as Edward Lupin's godfather he has now assumed the guardianship of Andromeda Black's grandchild, whom she has abandoned?"

The Head Auror gave a slow nod.

"How do you intend, Harry, to care for this child whilst participating in the Auror training programme? Given the circumstances I can make arrangements for you to reduce your hours, but there will still be ..."

"I'll manage," Harry cut in, firmly, "I have good people who will help me."

"Then I wish you all the best," his superior told him, rising to his feet to shake their hands in order to indicate the end of their meeting.

The odd couple walked out of the Auror department and down the black tiled hallway in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic. Harry had been given a week's compassionate leave to make personal arrangements for his new family situation.

"What's going on, Sir? Should we be worried? What does it all mean?"

He fired anxious questions at his former professor and protector.

"It means, Mr Potter; that Lucius Malfoy is playing with fire for his own selfish ends. And yes, we should be worried, for if we think that the Ministry or the Auror Office will protect us, we are all _fucked_."

\- xxx –

Severus and Harry returned to the Burrow after the meeting, where Molly was caring for Keah and Teddy whilst Arthur and Ron were at work. Draco was still in a poor state in a Weasley spare bedroom upstairs, and Ginevra had returned to Holyhead and her Quidditch team.

Severus wasted no time in placing the Burrow under strong protective enchantments, although not yet placing the Fidelius charm since all the occupants were not yet home. He did not want them to be unable to access their own home and family. He would do that later.

When he returned inside, Harry and Molly were deep in conversation.

"Harry, dear, you can stay here as long as you wish, it makes no difference that you have Teddy; we are used to a houseful of children!"

"That's so kind of you, and don't ever think I'm not grateful for the offer, but I feel like I need to stand on my own two feet now, I need to be a proper parent to Teddy. I have plenty of money from the sale of Grimmauld Place to buy my own home, and I'll look for somewhere this week."

"You sold the Black house?" Severus questioned, his eyebrow cocked in amusement, "Did you also sell the curmudgeonly bastard of a house-elf that served there?"

Harry smiled.

"Of course not. Kreacher has worked at Hogwarts since before we ... well, since before. He stayed there; none of us ever returned to Grimmauld, a wizarding estate agent handled everything for me."

Molly Weasley looked teary-eyed at the messy haired young man, no doubt seeing a small, skinny boy with more responsibility than he should have. Harry looked across at her.

"Mrs Weasley, the Auror Office has agreed to reduce my training hours to give me time to care for Teddy, it means it will take me longer to qualify, but that doesn't matter. Would you mind, say no if you want, but could you ... have Teddy while I'm working?"

She beamed at him.

"I thought you'd never ask. I'm here with Keah anyway so it's no problem at all to have another little one. Plus I enjoy it; you know I do, having babies around the house again. Besides, Teddy belongs to all of us, we are all responsible, we will bring him up the best we can, in honour of Remus and Tonks."

Harry looked at her with clear gratitude in his eyes, and took a large slurp from his mug of tea.

\- xxx –

Later that evening they were all back at the Burrow for dinner. Severus privately wondered just how many more meals he could stand with the Weasleys before his benevolence began to wear thin, but it seemed essential at the present time.

He had returned to the Barn for the afternoon, making a few lacklustre attempts at the invoicing paperwork that was usually completed by his diligent apprentice, and sending them off with the brown post owls after receiving a darkly warning look from Hannibal, who seemed to be royally pissed off that he was _not_ Draco, so he didn't chance giving the psychopath any deliveries.

Hermione arrived home through the Floo after work, and he passed a rather pleasant twenty minutes sprawled on the sleigh bed watching her wet, naked body in the shower as she washed off the day. He considered a wank, but thought it might be in poor taste given the current events. He enjoyed watching her rough-dry her hair, before plaiting it down one side so that it hung over her shoulder, leaving a damp patch on her tshirt.

 _This_ , this was what he would never allow anyone to take from him. Death Eater resurgence or not, his relationship with Hermione Granger was something he would fight to the death to protect. He just hoped he wouldn't have to, this time.

Fucking Lucius, what was the stupid bloody bastard up to? He would wring his entitled, aristocratic neck _personally_ if he saw him.

They had Floo'ed to the Burrow, where upon ascertaining all the occupants were home, he placed the entire estate under a Fidelius charm. The Weasleys would be responsible for making their other children and visiting friends Secret Keepers.

Draco, although weak and feeling exactly as one should after having been physically assaulted and then subjected to two rounds of Crucio, was awake and sitting semi-prone against the iron headboard of the rickety bed. Severus, Harry and Hermione were crowded into the small room, leaving Ronald to look after the two babies downstairs. He had not appeared too bothered about being left out of the discussion. If Severus had heard correctly, Weasley was attempting to court a young witch he had met on the Auror training programme, although he wasn't entirely sure, as he had been piecing together garbled bits of information that had been punctuated by much shovelling of food into the redhead's rapacious mouth.

Draco made an incongruous sight, his pale face, platinum hair and slightly haughty expression looking at odds with the jolly Weasley patchwork quilt and haphazard wooden walls of the spare room. Potter sat on a chair next to the bed, looking as if he would like to clutch the patient's hand, whilst Severus and Hermione were seated on the second, identical bed, meaning this must have been the childhood bedroom of the twin pranksters.

Between the two of them, he and Potter had told Draco everything they had learned from the Head Auror that morning. His apprentice had cried several times, no doubt the attack and recovery was weakening his emotions, but Severus still felt highly uncomfortable with the amount of leakage. Then again, Draco's mother was dead, most likely murdered, and his father had sired an illegitimate love-child with his aunt. That kind of news would certainly ruin most wizard's days, not least an emotional pansy like Draco Malfoy.

Severus' own mother had been murdered. Murdered by her husband, his fetid excuse for a father, Tobias Snape. Was the murder of Narcissa Malfoy really so different? He wasn't sure how he felt about _that_ little parallel, and resolved to discuss it with Hermione later, or more likely, push it deep into the recesses of his memory, never to be thought about again.

"Where should I go now?" Draco asked his assembled visitors, plaintively.

"You need to get better, Draco," Hermione replied, "Mr and Mrs Weasley are happy that you stay here until you are fully recovered."

"And what then? I don't ever want to go back there. Plus if Death Eaters and fuck knows who else have been meeting there, it isn't safe. I'll rent a place. I can afford somewhere small, thank fuck I earn my own money."

"Draco," Harry said, finally plucking up the courage to take his former enemy's hand, "I have a suggestion for you. I've been looking for houses this afternoon, a proper house where I can raise Teddy the way he deserves, one with a garden and plenty of space."

"And?" Draco replied, insouciantly.

"Come and live there too. Raise Teddy with me. You care about him as much as I do."

If Draco hadn't been laying down, Severus thought his blond former student may well have fallen over, such was the look of shock that crossed the young man's face. He began to feel like he and Hermione were intruding on something rather personal, and started to feel himself flush, so to pre-empt this he got to his feet, pulling Hermione with him.

"It appears, Mr Malfoy, that you have just been proposed to, of sorts," he smirked.

"Whilst I don't doubt this would be a peculiar arrangement, Potter's idea seems to have its merits. I suggest you consider them. In the meantime, we will take our leave, since neither myself nor Miss Granger wish to, _play gooseberry_."

Severus and Hermione swept out of the door, Hermione giving both of them a warm smile before shutting it firmly behind them. Draco and Harry looked at once another, before both of their mouths twisted in mirth.

"Do you reckon he calls her _Miss Granger_ in bed?" Draco teased, weakly.

Harry held up his hand, the one that wasn't linked with Draco's, that he was unwilling to give up.

" _Stop_. I can't even think about them like that."

"You're lucky; I've caught him with his hand up her skirt and found her knickers in the workroom, discarded in a fit of passion ..."

"Urgh, now really, stop."

Draco smirked, wickedly, and gave Harry's hand a squeeze, and enjoyed watching the surprise on his face.

"I remember," he started.

Harry looked at him quizzically.

"I remember you holding my head when I landed here, stroking my face and whispering in my ear that I would be ok. I couldn't answer you, but I heard you, and felt you. Your words and your touch were a comfort to me."

"Oh."

There was a long, awkward, pause.

"I still don't know how I feel, Potter. I like you, for all my bloody sins I _do_ like you, please know that. And I can actually see us living together, raising Teddy; being happy. As for anything else ..."

"We can take it slow, Malfoy," Harry replied, sincerely.

"Since when does a _Gryffindor_ do anything slowly?"

"When it means the world."

Harry turned his piercing green eyes to connect with Draco's ice-blue ones, and they flashed with promise, sincerity, and curiously, _safety_. Of course. He would be safe with Harry Potter. _He_ _had always been safe with Harry Potter_. He'd just never noticed it before. He grasped the rough hand that was still holding his smooth one, and allowed the Boy-who-Lived to plant a light kiss upon his forehead.

It felt different. It felt good. _It felt safe_.

\- xxx -


	60. Chapter 60

**I'm so sorry for the long gaps between updates, real life keeps getting in the way. I will do my best to get the new chapters up faster – thank you so much for reading, your support and encouragement means the world.**

 **Chapter 60**

Draco wandered down the cobbled streets, past the tiny church with the expansive graveyard, past the famous statue, and past the cottages that bore brightly coloured front doors with a smiling Teddy holding on to his finger for support as he toddled alongside. The weather was cool but bright, the sky lit with a low October sun that toasted everything with its golden beams.

They had lived in the village of Godric's Hollow for barely a few weeks now, but it already felt like the most comforting and safest place Draco had ever been. Harry had viewed a cottage in the village where he had been born and instantly fallen in love with it, completing the deal with a wizarding estate agent the very afternoon he had seen it. Draco could understand Potter wanting to return to the roots he had never truly known, the place where his life had begun before everything was snatched away from him, and he was happy to join him here.

Their cottage was in a terraced row of three on the other side of the village from James and Lily Potter's ruined home, so that it was near enough to visit, but not so near that Harry would be forced to walk past it every day. The house had been kept as a shrine by the wizarding world and disguised from the few muggles that lived in the almost fully-magical village. However, it was a quirky kind of muggle who lived in Godric's Hollow, and those that did were extremely open-minded and either knew or suspected that there was more to their slightly odd-looking and behaving neighbours than met the eye.

The cottage that Harry had chosen to make their home was a white-walled cottage with a red-slate roof, with three bedrooms upstairs and a ceiling so low that both of them frequently banged their heads if they forgot to stoop through the doorways. They were intending to magically raise the ceilings a few inches, but neither of them had got around to it yet, what with everything else they'd had to organise.

Harry had cut his Auror training down to four days a week, leaving Mondays free, and Severus had allowed Draco to cut Fridays from his working week and on those two days they each had Teddy to themselves. Tuesday to Thursday the toddler was left in the capable hands of Mrs Weasley, who received him delightedly each day, and at the weekends Harry, Draco and Teddy were all together. The unorthodox arrangement really was working rather well, and Harry had insisted on setting up a direct payment into the Weasley vault when Molly had refused to accept payment for the childcare she was providing. Draco had inwardly sniggered at his previous thought of goblins trotting along with wheelbarrows moving galleons from one vault to another. It was still funny, not least because it was probably true.

At present, each of them had their own bedroom, not least because Potter appeared to live like a complete slob with little regard for clothes folding, litter picking and general tidiness. Draco's own room was kept as he always had, neat and regimented. Not that he had many belongings to his name at present, having not felt ready to return to Malfoy Manor for his things since he'd recovered from his father and aunt's attack.

Nothing of a _relationship_ nature had passed between them, although Draco had to concede that nights on the sofa with their feet touching, the kiss that Harry bestowed on the top of his head whenever he left for work, and the odd hug they had shared felt good. He wondered what his father's reaction would be to finding out his son was gay, and a split-second later dismissed that thought, since he remembered that he now couldn't give a shit what Lucius Malfoy did, or did not, think. He was _done_ being his father's puppet.

Was he gay? It was the question he kept asking himself. Did he even _need_ to put a label on himself? He was happy with Potter, he enjoyed his attention, his company, his friendship, the verbal banter and his touch, and whatever they had between them was developing nicely at a pace he was comfortable with. Really, did anything more than that matter?

His long-standing relationship with Pansy Parkinson at Hogwarts, was sparked by the connection of their families' dubious morals and reputations, and he'd slept with her on many occasions both at school and at one or other of their homes, but it had never really been the kind of blisteringly-hot sexual encounters that he'd heard the other Slytherins speak of. Mostly worried that he was doing it wrong, his confidence was not helped by Parkinson's demanding and highly critical nature.

They had still been loosely seeing each other right until the end of seventh year, although Draco had been more than aware that Pansy had been cheating on him with several other boys, not that she had ever admitted it. After the final battle neither had returned to Hogwarts, and he had never spoken to her again, neither of them had bothered to contact the other. He mused that it was no great loss. What he had now with Potter was infinitely more real, more rewarding, and more exciting.

Ah well, so Draco Malfoy was gay. Who gave a shit? _He_ certainly didn't, and with his mother dead and his father no doubt about to be permanently incarcerated for her murder, he didn't feel the need to answer to anyone. Well, except Snape of course. He'd be answering to _that_ cantankerous bastard for the rest of his days, no doubt, although he found himself curiously grinning at that thought.

Teddy grinned back at him, a gummy smile that showed the few tiny white teeth he had already cut, and twinkling blue eyes that were just like Professor Lupin's. He recognised their cottage as they approached, and helped Draco push open the little wooden gate that led down the path to their bright red front door, the exact colour of a postbox. Their very own scarlet _Gryffin-Door_ , Harry had quipped, to a withering look from Draco. The damn thing even had a gold-plated knocker and letterbox, completing the Gryffindor theme perfectly. He'd have to squeeze some green and silver in somewhere, to redress the balance.

They waved to Mrs Armitage as they walked down the path, an elderly muggle woman who had been married to a wizard who was long-since passed. She was delighted when they had moved in next door with Teddy, giving the small boy much fuss and attention, almost as much as she gave Harry, for she remembered his parents and of course the happenings of twenty years previous.

The other side were a witch and wizard, husband and wife, old, but not as elderly as Mrs Armitage. Magical beings aged so much slower than muggles, so they could easily have been older, but he guessed these two were in their late sixties. The wizard was a keen Quidditch fan, and had played for Gryffindor at school, so there had already been conversations over the garden fence as the two Lion alumni ribbed the sole Slytherin.

Seriously, Ted needed to be sorted green, although he acknowledged the likelihood of this was slim, given his parentage. Perhaps Hufflepuff was the best he could hope for.

\- xxx –

The same Friday evening, Severus was standing at his long-brew workbench at the barn, watching over a large cauldron of Advanced Wolfsbane that was just at the volatile stage. He needed to commence the pattern of strictly-counted stirs at exactly the right point; else the whole batch would be ruined. This meant watching the cauldron bubble like a proverbial hawk with his glass stirring rod ready for the precise moment.

Unfortunately, whilst his eyes were busy, his mind was not so occupied on the task, and dark thoughts of the week's events were thundering through his brain like a raging torrent. Someone in Magical Law Enforcement had finally had the bright idea of temporarily releasing Lucius Malfoy from the suppression cuffs so that Veritaserum could be administered in order to force him into telling the truth about the disappearance and subsequent death of his wife.

During questioning under the influence of an extremely powerful dose of the highly-effective truth serum, Malfoy had explained that he _had_ held a meeting of several uncaptured Death Eaters and a number of werewolves at his home, and engaged them to _dispose_ of Narcissa, instructing them to make the murder undetectable thus leaving him free to marry her sister and raise their expected new baby together.

He could not answer questions about how, where or by whom the murder was committed, as he was not privy to that information. He told how the death eaters and werewolves, all of them wizards _not_ on registered Wolfsbane, were struggling to survive financially as they were social outcasts and fugitives, and had taken his gold with greedy hands to carry out the heinous deed.

Lucius had denied that he was trying to incite a Death Eater resurgence, and since he was under Veritaserum this had to be believed. However, he also unwillingly revealed that the remaining death eaters wanted to seek revenge on Severus Snape for being a turncoat and traitor, and the werewolves had joined with them since Snape's invention of the long-lasting Wolfsbane had led to a great many of their number rejoining wizarding society as free citizens. Only the _loose cannons_ were left. Those like Greyback and his followers, the ones with a thirst for blood and a lust for new flesh.

Severus wondered pedantically if at any point in his life he might be allowed to just live without anyone seeking to murder him. It really would be a novelty _not_ to have to look over his shoulder every day, to place security wards everywhere he slept and to be on high alert at all times.

The whereabouts of Andromeda Black were still unknown; Lucius did not know where she had fled to. Given that she had twice cast an Unforgiveable upon Draco, if she were discovered she would be forced to serve her sentence in Azkaban, pregnant or not. It was little wonder she had gone to ground, and Severus presumed she was most likely being shielded by former Death Eaters who were themselves in hiding.

Lucius' final answer revealed that Andromeda was already around five months pregnant. This meant they had a maximum of four months to find her before the baby was born, if she carried her pregnancy to term. Given that Lucius had been convicted of arranging the murder of his wife and sent to Azkaban, having escaped imprisonment after the war, and that Andromeda would also be imprisoned if she was found, Severus wondered what on earth would happen to the unfortunate child. Its only living relative, as far as he could see, would be Draco. Would his apprentice want to raise his bastard half-sibling, a child his mother was murdered for? He highly doubted it.

He heard the familiar _whoosh_ of the Floo connection activating just as the cauldron of Wolfsbane reached its optimum bubbling phase. He began to stir, counting the clockwise and anti-clockwise stirs and resolutely _not_ watching the flames glow green from the corner of his eye and his lover step through the fireplace and into the workroom.

Hermione brushed the soot from her travelling cloak as she entered the lab, seeing Severus immediately, eyes cast sternly down at a large cauldron and clearly counting stirs, as she had seen him do many times before. He was making Wolfsbane, she could smell it, plus it was on the long-brew bench and that generally had a cauldron on the go, the potion was so in-demand. A lot of his time was spent brewing it, and it was the bread-and-butter of STS Potions, bringing him in a tidy profit each week. He'd told her his vault at Gringotts had never been so full.

Fridays were always busier now that he did not have Draco working with him, although they had fallen into a routine between them of her helping him bottle, package and send orders when she came home on that day. Most of the Ministry department heads generally let their staff leave a little early on a Friday, winding down to the weekend, so it had worked out well.

She hung her cloak by throwing it on the sofa, and walked across to his workbench, knowing that she should not speak lest she interrupt his counting and ruin the batch, but as she approached he lifted his non-stirring arm to receive her and she tucked herself under it, slipping her arms around his waist and hugging tightly. She felt his cheek lean lightly against the top of her head as they stood reconnecting and enjoying the simple touch of each other.

After a while, she extricated herself and nipped upstairs to change into jeans, tshirt, and flat canvas pmups, pulling her hair from its neat bun she wore to work and shaking it loose, clipping it back loosely so that it hung in curly waves down her back, away from any potion surfaces. She knew exactly what needed to be done, without receiving instructions from Severus who was still counting stirs, so she attended Draco's bench and began to read the order parchments one by one, selecting the potions and tinctures from the brewing Severus had done that day, sealing bottles and packing boxes before taking each one to the Owlery for delivery.

She saved a particularly large box for the gargantuan Hannibal, who made it clear he was only too happy to deliver a parcel for _her_. She gave him a full handful of owl treats for his trouble, and he hooted his appreciation as he set off from the hole in the Owlery wall, the huge black owl always slightly too large to get through easily like the five other little brown post owls, a large parcel clutched in his claws making it even more of a squeeze than usual.

Orders completed and dispatched, she was filing parchments in boxes at the workbench when two strong arms encircled her from behind and squeezed her tightly, insinuating his long nose under her hair and kissing the side of her neck. She gasped in surprise, before smiling and leaning into his hard chest, enjoying the smell of him.

"Thank you," he rumbled into her ear.

"You are quite welcome," she replied, twisting in his arms so she could face him.

His face looked tired, but his eyes were alight, she hoped because of _her_. Raising her arms to his shoulders and around his neck, she pulled his face down towards her for a kiss, the sensual bliss of just touching this wizard's lips with her own still made her stomach lurch – in a good way.

"I missed you," he told her, simply and honestly.

"I'm here now, and it's the weekend. Two days off, and we both need to relax."

He nodded, rolling his head as her nimble fingers rubbed deliciously behind his neck and twisted up little bits of his long, black hair.

"Oh yes," he replied, quietly, "Yes please."

"You are entirely too tired to cook tonight. What say we go out for dinner? Nothing we need to get dressed up for, what about apparating to Hogsmeade and eating at the Three Broomsticks? Madam Rosmerta does the best pub food – pure comfort stodge, and of course Butterbeer, which we won't get down the road."

He looked down at her, amusement in his eyes, and smiled.

"As always, my love, you have the very best ideas. Let me shower, since Wolfsbane remnants do not make a good accompaniment to Rosmerta's beef stew, and then we shall go."

He kissed her hard on the forehead and released her, turning to ascend the stairs to their living space. She followed him, and he turned around halfway up the cherrywood stairs when they reached the mezzanine where he had still to arrange his intended library, which currently still resided in the spare room at Cliffside Cottage in the trunk he had transported them in.

"Are you following me to the shower, Granger?" he asked, in mock-accusation.

"Not _in_ to the shower, no. I'm going to lie on the bed and _watch_ you."

"And why in Merlin's name would you do that?"

"You did it to me the other week, didn't you? You lay on our bed quite happily rubbing yourself over your trousers whilst watching me shower. You obviously enjoyed it. What makes you think _I_ wouldn't do exactly the same?"

She grinned at him, and he gave her that gorgeous one-sided smile that she loved so much, accompanied by a flash of black fire in his eyes, before resolutely turning and setting off back up the stairs to _perform_ his shower for her viewing pleasure.

\- xxx –

They had a wonderful evening in the familiar environment of the Three Broomsticks, receiving a hearty welcome and even heartier food from Rosmerta, who was pleased to see the both of them, and she hid her surprise at them being _together_ rather well. Several teachers from Hogwarts had popped in to the Hogsmeade pub for an evening drink, greeting both Severus and Hermione warmly. If they were shocked at the relationship, they didn't say, or perhaps they didn't even notice the connection, Severus had said, teachers on a Friday night just needed to get drunk, supping away the week of _obnoxious fucking children_.

When they had eaten and drank all they could, they left the pub, a warm orange glow from the many candles of the ceiling lights streaming out from the small windows as they entered the main road through Hogsmeade, cold October air making their breath come out in visible puffs, and started towards the apparition point a short way up the road.

Several times Severus pulled her in for a kiss, just because he could. Their relationship was not forbidden. He was proud to be with her, he said. Plus, he wanted to get her home and thoroughly make her pay for ogling his arse in the shower earlier whilst refusing to join him.

They had reached the end of the shops and were just at the edge of the woodland, a few steps from the apparition point. She was playfully holding the black collar of his coat and pulling him towards her to kiss his mouth when they heard it.

"Well, well, well."

They both turned around, although not letting of one another. Hermione recognised that voice; she heard it in her worst nightmares.

"Harry Potter's mudblood. Getting it on with the Death Eater deserter. Gone over to the dark side, have you, princess?"

Fenrir Greyback, in human form but instantly recognisable from his huge frame, wild hair and pointed teeth, stood almost casually leaning against a tree in the darkness.

Severus released her arms from around his neck but kept hold of her, clamped under his arm in both a possessive and protective gesture.

"You shouldn't be here, Greyback," he snarled, in a low, menacing voice that Hermione had not heard him use before, except in the pensieve memories.

"But this is my favourite place, Snape. Right near the school, just waiting for a little kiddy to step outside the boundary when they shouldn't, fresh meat for me."

"You're despicable!" Hermione spat, shaking with rage.

The insult made Greyback drop his casual position and take up much more of an aggressive stance, drawing himself to his full height, which was several inches taller than Severus.

"Watch your mouth, mudblood. Or I might have to shut you up. Never finished my job last time, did I?"

She shuddered. He was referring to when he had brought them to Malfoy Manor whilst they were on the run, and the vile Bellatrix had promised her to the werewolf to play with, once she was finished interrogating her. She had been suffering the effects of Cruciatus, but could remembering Greyback remonstrating fiercely that he was to be denied her body to defile.

He grinned malevolently.

"Remembering that, are you? I never got to give you one, little mudblood. Although from the look of this now it seems old Professor Snape was already dipping his wick into you as a schoolgirl, ain't that right?"

Severus whipped his wand out and was pointing it at Greyback before the werewolf had finished his sentence.

"You disgust me," he said, calmly but with a steady voice dripping with threat.

"Just try it."

Hermione's eyes became accustomed to other shapes that were behind Fenrir in the darkness of the wooded area he was standing before. An awful lot of shapes, and they were beginning to move forward towards them. She didn't know who or what they were, only that there were far too many of them for her and Severus to take on alone.

Severus reacted on instinct, sensing the danger before Hermione did. Already holding her under his arm, he immediately apparated them away, landing before Hogwarts boar-topped gates, which he instantly touched with his wand. As a former teacher the gates recognised his magical signature and opened for him, and he rushed them both inside, pushing the gates closed and securing them with his wand so they remained impenetrable.

"Why have we come here?" Hermione asked, as they set a cracking pace around the lake and up towards the castle.

He grabbed hold of her hand and held it tightly.

"I have to warn Minerva that those animals are near Hogwarts. We also needed to get to a safe place, and there is nowhere safer than these walls, you know that. Aurors will also need to be called, and I would prefer to call them here, rather than to our secret-kept barn."

"You were thinking of all that whilst I was standing there panicking," she mused.

"Overthinking all possible outcomes is borne from a lifetime of necessity, Hermione," he told her, somewhat cryptically.

McGonagall had been advised of their arrival by the security wards, and they were let in the huge castle door by an unsmiling Argus Filch, who nodded at them as if he had never seen either of them before, and proceeded to show them to the Head's office. Minerva was waiting for them in a tartan dressing-gown and matching slippers, a concerned look upon her heavily-lined face.

"Severus. And Miss Granger. Am I to presume that this is not a social visit?"

She ushered them to sit down on some large armchairs that were in front of the fire, and Severus gave her a abbreviated version of all that had occurred over the last month, from the attack on Draco, the murder of Narcissa, and the confessions of Lucius Malfoy. To her credit, she listened without comment, her eyes narrowing further with each new piece of information. He then told her about their altercation with Greyback and unknown accomplices just minutes previously, their intentions towards students, and only a few hundred yards from the school gates. She nodded seriously.

"We cannot do anything tonight. This school is the most secure place in England, you know that, Severus, they cannot get inside. This is why they are lurking outside, waiting for a student out of bounds. I will floo the Auror office first thing in the morning. Unfortunately they have been at large since the end of the war, there is nothing different now apart from it appears they are beginning to create trouble, rather than remain hidden. I can only hope these ... _people_ are stopped, before anyone is hurt."

"I am assisting with their enquiries, since I am being personally targeted."

"Of course you are. Will you stay tonight? You can speak to the Aurors in the morning and you are safe here. But oh, Miss Granger ..."

It was as if she had just noticed Hermione was in the office with them.

"I confess myself confused. Why were the two of you together in Hogsmeade to run into these characters in the first place?"

Her sharp eyes darted between the two of them, as if trying to connect two pieces of a puzzle that wasn't quite fitting together. He felt like an errant schoolboy.

"Severus and I _are_ together, Professor. We are engaged to be bonded, and we have lived together for many months now."

Hermione had jumped in and declared them without a moment's hesitation. _Merlin_ , he fucking loved this girl. The old witch's mouth fell open like a large fish, and despite the seriousness of the current situation, Severus couldn't help but smirk. It took her quite a while of opening and closing her mouth before she was able to form a comprehensive response.

"Are you telling me that _not only_ are you, _Severus Snape_ , the most maudlin and unpleasant wizard of my acquaintance, have _not only_ convinced a witch to bond with you, _not only that_ , but said witch is _Hermione Granger_ , twenty years younger than you and one of the top students _ever_ to pass through this school?"

Her eyes were practically bugging out of her head. He wondered if they might explode if he kept her waiting long enough for an answer.

"Yes, Minerva," he smirked, "should I take that as your way of congratulating us?"

She regarded the two of them for a long while. Hermione had slipped her hand into his and was clutching it defiantly, her chin raised as if preparing for verbal battle with her former head of house. She was a warrior, no doubt about that.

Minerva took a deep breath.

"I daresay that the two of you know your own minds. And I daresay that this is the witch that you were sneaking into your chambers last year?"

He gave a single nod in the affirmative, and she sighed and shook her head.

"Then what can I say? Good luck, Miss Granger, you are certainly going to need it."

She paused.

"And I wish you both all the happiness in the world. Merlin knows you deserve it."

Her face broke into a resigned smile, which quickly became a proud one, and her eyes seemed to be a little watery.

"I'll instruct an elf to prepare a chamber for you, at least for one night, if not two, depending on what happens tomorrow. I presume you wish to share?"

"Yes please," Hermione replied, still holding on to his hand.

"Hmm," she murmured, fixing Severus with a most disapproving look, which softened into a rueful shake of her head.

"Well, Severus. I certainly would never have thought it of you."

He smirked again, pulling Hermione to her feet and quite enjoying Minerva's discomfort, it felt like old times.

"In the guest corridor, Minerva?"

"You know where it is. The same room you occupied last time, Miss Granger, nice and red and Gryffindor, sure to annoy your Slytherin fiancé here."

"I know where it is," Severus told her, ushering Hermione towards the door of the head's office.

McGonagall's mouth looked like she was sucking a lemon and she inhaled deeply through her nose.

"Oh, _I bet you do_ , Severus."

She was still shaking her head as the heavy office door closed behind them.


	61. Chapter 61

**Chapter 61**

They stole down the portrait-lined stone corridors of Hogwarts castle towards the guest chambers, the walls of the school as familiar to both of them as their own faces. A few portraits were still awake and gave Severus respectful greetings, which he returned with a curt nod of approval. Due to the lateness of the hour they did not meet with any students in the hallways and were able to pass uninterrupted to the guest chamber that Minerva had offered them.

Entering the familiar room where Hermione had stayed once before, the previous year when she had visited Neville with Harry and Ron, both were reminded of the first time they had spent the night together, albeit chastely, on that occasion.

Severus pushed open the heavy wood-panelled door, which creaked from lack of use. The chamber was just as it was a year ago, the grey stone walls dominated by an imposing four-poster bed hung with weighty scarlet drapes, and dressed with crimson bed linen. The fire had been lit and was set to a medium burn which gave the room both heat and a low light, and both were pleased to see a small table set with a tea service from which steam was emanating, obviously just freshly placed there by a house-elf.

The windows gave an impressive view over Hogwarts grounds and the Black Lake, and Hermione couldn't help drifting over to them and pushing open the centre window, breathing in the cold, Scottish night air and trying to make out the familiar landmarks in the darkness.

Severus walked across the room in his inimitable deathly-silent manner, and moved in behind her, fitting every curve of his lean body into each one of her own, wrapping his arms around her waist and tucking his face under her hair then pressing his lips against her neck. She shivered, and not just because of the chill from the window.

"This is the window I was looking from when I saw you standing by the lake. You know, that night," she whispered, the pervading silence in the room and grounds seeming to require a soft tone.

"I know," he replied, his deep voice resonating against her back, "I was standing there for precisely that reason."

That surprised her.

"You were?"

"Obviously."

"But ..."

"Let me save you the trouble of questions, little witch," he moved his mouth to her ear and began to speak in a low, heady drawl, "Since our ... _interaction_ at Christmas in my classroom, when I saw you again in the Great Hall for dinner that evening with Potter and Weasley, I looked upon you with ... fresh eyes, shall we say. I wanted to speak to you, to touch you, to find out the reason behind your actions that night. But ... how to do this without appearing like a lecherous pervert?"

She couldn't help but let out a short laugh of amusement, and he tightened his hold, pressing what was clearly a burgeoning erection into the small of her back, before continuing.

"My location of choice at the side of the Black Lake was not chosen at random."

"You knew I was in this guest chamber, and knew that it looked out over the lake at exactly that spot?"

"Ah, a glimmer of that razor-sharp intellect you are so much vaunted for," he replied, drily and with a touch of arrogance that she couldn't help finding somewhat attractive.

"But how did you know I would come to you?"

"I did not. I was presuming, much like you have done tonight, that your love of Hogwarts would lead you to the window to view the grounds before you retired. When you saw me, it was then your choice whether to come and speak to me, in a private situation, not as teacher and student."

"That was a risky strategy. What if I had decided not to come down?"

He paused, his breathing heavy on her neck.

"Then we would not be together now, I imagine."

"Wow."

"Indeed."

She turned around in his arms, perching her bottom slightly on the windowsill, and stroked her thumbs across his cheeks, his fine black hair tickling the backs of her hands.

"Were you pleased when I sought you out?"

He gave a small smile which lit up his eyes with amusement.

"I was more confused and conflicted than I have ever been. I wanted you, _fucking Merlin_ , I wanted you, Hermione, but I knew it was wrong, I knew I had made a mistake, that I had grossly underestimated my feelings towards you, and my ability to control those desires after so long without tenderness."

"You wanted me?"

She smiled at him, still looking directly into his eyes whilst gently holding his face.

"You are teasing me," he accused, lightly.

Her smile became more of a smirk.

"Perhaps."

She slid her hands down his chest, the hard muscles softened by the black cashmere jumper he had worn for their dinner in the Three Broomsticks, and played her fingertips around the top of his belt.

"So ... that night ... you brought me back here, to this very chamber, and left. Did you want me then?"

He lifted his face to the ceiling and groaned, and she slipped a hand around to his bum, squeezing one firm cheek and pulling him in against her, feeling his hardness through their clothing.

"Should I take that as a yes?"

He dropped his head and swiftly grabbed hold of both her arse cheeks, pulling her up.

"Yes, you wench, yes I fucking _did_ , of course I did," he growled, through clenched teeth.

"But yet you denied yourself."

He set her back on her feet and looked at her. He had no answer to give, not after everything they had been through together since then.

" _And_ denied _me_ ," she added, giving his bum another hard squeeze.

"I could not allow it."

"But if you had allowed it," she responded, teasingly trailing her hand up his arm to rest upon his chest, "if you _had_ ... what would you have done?"

There was a long pause whilst he devoured her with his eyes, which were burning black with heightening desire.

"Witch," he began, his eyes roving her face, "My beautiful witch, Hermione ... I would have fucked you into the mattress of that fine bed there, and would not have let you leave it. I would have made you mine in every possible way to prevent you from ever leaving my presence again."

 _That_ was she'd wanted to hear. Smiling merrily, she slipped out of his grip and shot off towards the bed, stopping when she reached it and turning around to face him in the dark, stone room, lit only by the flickering glow of the fire. She took out her wand, and used a Divesto to strip herself naked in one motion, sending all her clothes to one of the armchairs across the room. The bed had already been turned down, and she hopped in between the sumptuous covers, luxuriating in their plumpness and softness.

She stuck one arm out of the voluminous sheets, the one still holding her wand, and cast the same Divesto spell upon Severus, removing every stitch of his clothing and leaving him standing by the window with a most impressive erection jutting out at a proud angle.

With as much pride and elegance as one could muster when one has been unexpectedly relieved of one's clothes, and with a throbbing cock needing attention, Severus walked slowly over to the bed, where his lover was waiting, holding open the covers in the same way she had done when he had rejoined her in this very chamber on that night they had just been discussing.

"Come and show me, Severus, show me what you would have done."

He was not a stupid wizard, and did not need telling twice. Casting a strong ward upon the chamber door, he laid his wand on the beside cabinet before plucking Hermione's intricately-carved vinewood from her hand and setting it down alongside his before slipping into the bed covers and pressing his nakedness alongside hers, making sure his cold feet touched her legs as a punishment for her cheek, which made her squeal.

"I am fairly certain, Miss Granger, that if we are taking ourselves back to that night, that you would not have been addressing me by my given name," he drawled, challenging her to a game.

"How very naughty of you."

He raised one eyebrow at her, as if to suggest that her response was not adequate, and that he was not joking, and was gratified to see her expression change to one of agreement. Oh, they _were_ going to play this game ... and his cock twitched in anticipation. She looked him straight in the eye.

"Do you want me ... _Professor_?"

With a tortured groan he lowered his head to her breasts, taking one deep into his mouth and sucking on it, letting out moans of enjoyment as he gave the delicious tit his full attention, whilst palming the other in his large hands, playing with it roughly, unable to get enough of the divine feel of her. He felt her begin to writhe under his ministrations, moving him on, pushing him further.

"Oh, Sir ..."

She was a bloody teasing wench and no doubt about it. He let go of her breast without warning and transferred his mouth to the other, giving it the same attention, taking in as much of the soft flesh as he could, whilst flicking her nipple with his sharp tongue.

At the same time he slid his now free hand down her body and roughly pushed her thighs apart enough to push between her legs, dipping his searching fingers into her wetness, and pressed the flat of his hand against her. He removed his mouth from her breast and stretched out to relocate it to her lips, pushing his tongue between them, seeking out her own and snogging her deeply.

When he had kissed her breathless, he pushed up on his elbow and looked down at her, his hand still rubbing against her wet cunt, making her hips push back against it, trying to force him to do more.

"Now, Miss Granger," he chided, "we will have none of that. If you want me to touch you, you will need to ask me in the proper manner."

He looked at her face, flushed with arousal, framed with her wild curls and her lips scarlet and kiss-swollen, possibly the most appealing sight he had ever seen. She was enjoying this game and was not backing down from it. _Fuck_ , he loved this girl, _this woman_.

"Sir, please; move your hand more."

"I _am_ moving my hand, Granger," he teased, pressing the heel of his hand against her clitoris, "You will need to be more specific."

She made a noise of frustration and he looked down at her, arranging his features into his stern classroom persona.

"I am unable to aid you without specific instruction. Believe me, I desire to assist, but I need very ... careful direction."

"Professor Snape?"

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"I need you to put your fingers inside me, Sir. I need you to rub my clit in the way that only you can. I want to come, I need to come."

He actually thought he might come himself, right there and then, at the bold words dropping from her innocent mouth. He did not need telling twice, and pushed two long fingers deep inside her, crooking them at the top just as she liked, and using his thumb to swipe her clit in short repetitive strokes that meant her bud was soon swelling under his touch.

He kissed her cheek, enjoying the feel of her increasingly ragged breathing against his face as he titillated her, her hips jumping around freely now with his ceaseless agitation of her most sensitive parts.

"And after I have made you come all over my hand, which I am most looking forward to, by the way, what shall we do then?" he asked, in a deep voice thick with passion.

"I'm going to ... to ..." she trailed off, close to orgasm and unable to form a coherent sentence.

"Yes, little witch, you are going to come. Come hard and fast right here in the palm of my hand. And then I am going to fuck you right into this mattress, just as I wanted to."

She let out a gasp, and he removed his fingers from inside her, taking hold of her hard clit and wiggling it rapidly from side to side, whilst tapping the tip with his finger. He felt her vagina pulse hard as she came, dripping fluid and opening for his cock. He would not disappoint her.

He rolled himself on top of her, settling his slim hips into the cradle made by her thighs, and looked down at her, holding himself up on his strong, lean arms. Her eyes were glazed from her orgasm, but her expression held only love and approval. He lined up his cock with her entrance, dipping the tip inside her wetness.

"So that you have no further need to wonder, Miss Granger, _this_ is what I would have done to you that night, had I not been trying to prove myself a decent wizard."

He thrust, a single thrust, hard and deep, cramming his impressive length fully inside her. She let out a loud exclamation of pleasured surprise.

"I _wanted_ you."

He thrust again.

"I wanted you so fucking much."

And another.

"You have me now, Sir."

He moved down from resting on his hands to his elbows, sliding his forearms underneath and hooking one over each of her naked shoulders, speeding the pace of his thrusts and licking the sweating hot skin between her breasts. By Merlin, he had promised he would fuck her into the mattress and he was damned if he was going let her down.

He gritted his teeth and put all the effort he could muster into sinking his cock repeatedly into his lover, as if with each thrust he could convey the depth of his passion and obsession for her. He felt her small hands reach around and cup one of his arse cheeks in each, pushing him harder, faster; deeper.

He let his head dip forward, long hair plastered to his face with the effort, before he could soon hold his orgasm no longer, and with a final burst of speed, he ejaculated, pouring the evidence of his physical desire into his witch, heavily breathing as the blood returned to other parts of his body.

She allowed him to collapse on top of her, needing the weight of his body upon her for a short while, soothing his back with her hands.

"I love you, Sir," she whispered.

"Professor Snape needs to sleep now, Hermione. I think we have killed him. However, Severus loves you very much."

He pushed back and gave her a hard kiss on the lips, before falling aside of her onto his own cool pillow and grabbing a hold of the hand nearest to him. Looking across, in the soft glow of the fire he could see her eyes were already closed, her breathing rhythmic and preparing for sleep. He could also see the contented smile upon her lips.

He smirked. She really was the most teasing bloody wench he had ever met.

\- xxx –

The following morning they were back in Minerva's office having cleaned their clothes with a quick Tergeo charm and themselves with a dip in one of Hogwarts' best guest bathtubs. A team of four Aurors were present, headed up by the bulldog-like Head of Magical Law Enforcement whom he and Potter had met a few weeks ago following Lucius Malfoy's arrest.

Hermione had insisted on summoning the lovebirds from their nest, and having left their young charge at the Weasleys, Harry and Draco has joined them in the office, Minerva had opened her Floo to avoid them having to apparate to the school gates in light of the current situation.

The Aurors had taken full statements from himself and Hermione regarding their altercation with Fenrir Greyback the previous evening, and their belief that there were other werewolves also in the vicinity of Hogwarts, but that they hadn't lingered long enough to find out, a fact which the Head of the MLE seemed quite disappointed about.

He sent the team of Aurors to comb the area around the school gates, using whatever means it was they possessed to detect Death Eater activity, and to set caterwauling charms to go off should Greyback or any of the other non-registered werewolves come within a certain distance. He explained there wasn't really a lot else the Auror office could do, unless they were actually to go and hunt out werewolves, whom at present had committed no recognisable crime.

Severus was exasperated.

"I believe that we are seeing a resurgence of dark activity, set in motion by the attack on Draco Malfoy, but initiated by the plans of Malfoy Senior and Andromeda Black to murder his wife and her sister."

Draco winced, and Harry grabbed his hand in support.

"My apologies, Draco."

"Don't worry, Sir. It's the truth, however unpleasant it may be."

Severus turned back to the Head Auror.

"I believe that this activity is focused on myself; and now Miss Granger since she was with me last night and Greyback personally threatened her. I also believe that Potter is at risk purely because of who he is, and also from his association with Mr Malfoy, since they are now openly living together. If Andromeda Black is willing to dispose of her sister to achieve her aims, I have no doubt that her nephew would also be a target."

The heavy-set man nodded gravely as he spoke.

"We have all possible surveillance being used, Professor. We are now reliant on them showing themselves. Your evidence from last night will be collated and used to form a pattern of movement."

"With all respect, Sir, that isn't much use to Severus, Harry and Draco, who are living with one eye over their shoulders every minute."

That was Hermione.

"Miss Granger, we are doing all we can."

He rose to leave, indicating that he would collect his Aurors from the front of the school and apparate back with them. He left an icy silence in the Head's office. The visit had been brief and inconclusive, and at the very least, unhelpful.

Finally, Harry spoke.

"This all seems horribly familiar."

"It's not, Harry," Hermione reassured her friend, "these are a small bunch of people on the run, who know their time is limited before they are finally captured and sent to Azkaban where they always should have been. The Aurors are doing all they can. We just have to continue to be security conscious and ..."

Harry was looking at Hermione and shaking his head, sadly.

"We're on our own again," he told her.

"You're not alone," Draco interjected, "I'm here, and so is Severus."

"Severus always was," he pointed out, "we just didn't know it at the time."

"This will come to a head soon enough," Severus surmised, "Death Eaters are not known for their patience, nor their subtlety. We must all be on our guard. I will come to your house now and place a Fidelius charm upon your residence in Godric's Hollow, I have been remiss in not doing this already. Draco is implicated not only through his family, but also through his association with me. Then we can only wait."

\- xxx –

Minerva had invited all four of them to stay to a Saturday night late supper in the staff room; Hermione and Harry were delighted to see Neville, and wasted no time in introducing the new and improved Draco Malfoy to him. It would take some time for the timid Gryffindor to trust his former tormenter, but he was generous of nature, and was friendly and polite to Draco, considering what he meant to his friend Harry.

Wine was poured, and Severus endured the attentions of Sprout, Hooch and McGonagall bending his ear about his relationship, how lucky he was, how amazed they were ... he only permitted it as it seemed preferable to engaging Gregory Mollins in conversation, the man was openly glaring at him from a large brown leather armchair in the corner of the staff room. Hopefully he was only mildly pissed off because Severus had once seen his fat, hairy arse, and not because he was yet another person who wished him dead.

Severus had set the Fidelius charm on Potter and Malfoy's cottage that afternoon, and Molly Weasley was now there babysitting until they returned, so that Teddy could go to bed without being moved and disturbed if they were back late. She had been made a Secret-Keeper of their house, along with Ronald Weasley, himself and Hermione.

Minerva had encouraged them to stay another night at the castle, and he found himself agreeing immediately, the horny side of him wondering if the surroundings would earn him another night of spectacular sex. Hermione had been more than happy to stay, and they had no other plans, so it was settled.

Slightly drunk, Potter was deep in conversation with Avery Goldsmith, the DADA professor, as it had unsurprisingly been his best subject at school, and he was impressing on Goldsmith that he might like to teach it someday, once he was finished being an Auror.

Severus rolled his eyes. Potter was such a people-pleaser, he thought, listening to the boy prattle on about his guardianship of Teddy, his new cottage in the village where he grew up, how much he was enjoying the auror training programme, his friendship with Draco. The boy really needed to keep something of himself back.

Then again, _he_ was hardly a shining example of how to behave. So emotionally constipated it had taken every effort and skill Hermione had to find his heart and feelings buried so deeply inside.

He was suddenly jolted back to his own conversation and realised that his three former colleagues were all looking at him expectantly. Shit, what had they asked? He had no fucking idea.

Hermione had obviously heard, as she had sat down on the arm of the chair he was sitting in, and draped her arm around his shoulders.

"We don't know when we will bond. Severus is keen that I achieve everything I wish to in my career, and has no wish to tie me down."

Ah. Marriage. He was back in the room.

"It is entirely Hermione's choice when and if we bond. She certainly has the shoddy end of the deal in this relationship, it must be her decision."

"Severus, please don't speak like that," Minerva admonished, "By making a statement like that, you show disrespect for Hermione's choices."

Hermione grinned widely.

"I love him," she replied, simply.

"I know you do, my dear. I know he feels the same way. In fact, why don't the two of you accompany me to my office for a brief moment?"

Confused, they excused themselves and followed her through the Floo, where she indicated for them to seat themselves in the same armchairs before the fireplace that they had sat in the previous evening as they'd explained their run-in with Greyback.

"Severus, Hermione. Forgive an old woman who needs to have her say."

"You sound like Poppy," he mused, aloud.

"A great loss to us all," McGonagall answered.

"Indeed. She gave me excellent support in the early stages of this relationship. I can honestly say I would have ruined it many times had it not been for her ... intervention."

"Meddling, you mean?"

"Oh yes."

"Then let me meddle a little more, since it seems to work with you. Make yourselves comfortable, and I shall tell you a brief story. For the sake of brevity, I shall condense it to the facts only. In my youth, I was madly in love with a young muggle by the name of Dougal McGregor. Since my witch mother had given up her magic to marry my muggle father, and was frightfully unhappy, I made up my young mind that I could not marry Dougal, and sent him away without telling him why. I lived many years alone. In later years I married a wizard called Elphinstone Urquart, a kind man, but with him I did not have the same kind of love as I had with my Dougal. Elphinstone died only three years after we married, before we had children. I never knew what happened to Dougal. I have often wondered."

Both of them stared at her, not really knowing how to respond to her tale.

"I am telling you this, because I see the love between you. I wanted to tell you, don't lose it, don't waste it, hold it tight with both hands, because I believe it only comes one a lifetime. In uncertain times, too much is easily lost."

Hermione cottoned on first.

"Professor, as Headmistress, you have the authority to conduct a bonding ceremony, do you not?"

Minerva smiled at her, fondly.

"Indeed I do, Hermione," she replied.

"I do not wish for a big ceremony, a huge dress, nor a party where we please everyone apart from ourselves."

"That does not surprise me about you."

"I no longer have my parents, and I am an only child so I have no other relatives."

Severus turned to Hermione, his eyes narrowing in what he meant to be suspicion, but looked rather more like hope.

"What are you saying, Hermione?"

"I think I'm saying, what are we waiting for?"

"We are waiting for _you_ to be ready, for you to achieve all that you wish to. I would never hold you back, nor wish for you to regret bonding with me, or to feel trapped by me."

"And that is exactly why you are the wizard I need. You inspire me, promote me, support me. I understand waiting to start a family; that I agree with. I have lots I wish to achieve in my career before thinking about children. However, being with you, I _always_ want to be with you. You make me feel safe, loved, protected and admired. I do not want a fussy bonding ceremony, and I know you don't either. What Minerva is suggesting makes perfect sense."

He stared at her, torn between wanting to drag her from chair and begging Minerva to bond them that very second, and wanting to do the right thing, to be a good man. Would a _good man_ tie down an outstanding twenty year old girl in the prime of her life?

She leaned forward and whispered in his ear.

"Do you remember last night, when you realised you'd wasted time trying to be _a good man_? Let us not waste any more, Severus."

She darted out her little tongue and licked his earlobe, out of view of Minerva.

"Have you _lost_ your mind?"

"Not at all. I think this is an incredibly sensible course of action, considering that I love you, and don't intend to be without you for the rest of my life."

"She knows what she wants, Severus," Minerva commented, "and so do you. You both just needed a little push."

He put his hands on his knees and rose to standing, turning and pulling Hermione up from her own chair, holding their hands between them. He smiled, forcing his mouth from his one-sided smirk into a full expression of pleasure.

"Believe me, Hermione, you have your entire life to repent at leisure the hasty decision you are making."

"I'll look forward to it," she smiled back, standing on tiptoes to kiss him.

As their lips met, he let go of one of her hands and slid his arm around her back, pulling her against his chest and deepening the kiss, murmuring his love into her mouth. At length, he drew back and pressed his forehead to hers.

"How did I ever get so lucky?"

"Maybe you deserved it, Severus," Minerva replied from across the room.

His arm around Hermione's shoulders, he addressed his former colleague.

"You can do this now? No fuss?"

"I can. You will just need two witnesses. Shall I call the other heads of house? You can stand for Slytherin and I for Gryffindor. It will be just like old times, us four old heads together again."

He nodded, and she disappeared through the floo, presumably back to the staff room where the supper was still going on. He turned back to Hermione, full of concern, but when he opened his mouth to talk, she silenced him with another kiss.

"Enough," she told him, "I want this. _We_ want this."

He conceded. He would always concede to this witch. Not caring that Minerva could be back any time; he sat down in the chair and pulled her with him, moving her to straddle his lap, and began to kiss her properly in earnest. She held his face in her hands and he wrapped his arms around her lower back, keeping her pressed against him as he snogged her open-mouthed, this young witch who was, astoundingly (and if he had understood the whole conversation) about to become his wife.

After several minutes of heated kissing, he was almost glad to hear the floo activate, as it was likely his cock would not take much more before it started to make its needs known. He kept Hermione on his lap whilst thinking about potion formulas to calm the stirrings in his trousers before standing in front of his fellow professors.

Pomona and Filius were with her, both looking most excited, if not slightly pissed on the elf-made wine that was being served at the Saturday night supper in the staff room. Ah well, there was no rule that the witnesses to a bonding had to be sober.

"Potter and Malfoy had already left when I returned to the staff room," she told them, "Apparently there is a small child who will be requiring their attention. Although they are both quite drunk, I shouldn't imagine they will make it much past their fireplace. Thank Merlin that Molly is there."

She took her wand from her sleeve and stood before her desk, indicating that they should come and stand in front of her.

"I was going to ask if the two of you were ready, but given what I just witnessed, I think that any more _ready_ and you would be consummating your marriage in my office chairs."

Hermione blushed scarlet but Severus felt no shame, only pride, and smirked wickedly at the Headmistress, tugging Hermione gently to stand before Minerva. Filius and Pomona moved in beside her.

Minerva cast the spells which verified they were both free to marry; that they were sober and both were in consent.

"Do you wish for spoken vows?"

He looked at Hermione and raised an eyebrow.

"No, thank you," she replied, "You do it."

McGonagall bound their hands with a jet of silver that burst from the end of her wand, it bound itself around their wrists, not touching the skin, sparkling and alive with magic.

"I hereby bond your hearts, your bodies, your minds and your magic. A bondmate is protective, faithful, supportive, understanding and loving. I have verified that you enter this bond freely and consensually. You will recorded by law as husband and wife."

She conjured a scroll of parchment upon which was written their bonding contract in gold lettering. Using her wand she magically entered her signature, and bade Severus and Hermione to do the same. Finally, Sprout and Flitwick added their own magical signatures as witnesses. The scroll rolled itself up and vanished as if it had apparated, leaving only a cloud of gold dust twinkling in the air behind it. It would now be filed at the Ministry.

Minerva smiled at them indulgently.

"Your first kiss as husband and wife will remove the handfasting corona," she whispered, indicating the silver glimmer around their hands.

Severus turned to his wife, quite unable to believe what was now his.

"Thank you, Hermione," he told her, his voice cracking with emotion, "Thank you for my whole life."

"You are welcome."

He leaned forwards, and tucking his large nose to the side of hers, slowly kissed the soft, warm lips of his wife, gradually moving them together in gentle pecks until the silver band disintegrated and he could slide his hands behind her head and kiss her reverently, uncaring of the other three people in the room.

As they kissed, the magic of the new bond swirled around them. Minerva looked at them with pride, wiping away a small tear from her eye. Pomona Sprout was openly sobbing into a large, dirty handkerchief muttering _well I never_ , and _beautiful._ Filius Flitwick had finally passed out from the elf-made wine and his diminutive form had slid half under Minerva's desk with his unusually large feet the only clue to his whereabouts.

"Congratulations," whispered McGonagall, and she used some very special and highly frowned-upon magic to send the still-kissing newlyweds back to the scarlet guest chambers.

\- xxx –

While the rest of the staff were celebrating the nuptials, Avery Goldsmith had received an unexpected owl making him an offer he couldn't refuse, and he slipped away into Hogsmeade, entering the Three Broomsticks and making his way to the room number in the letter. He was in the small section where Rosmerta rented rooms for the night.

He was rather drunk, as most of the staff had been, but he was alert enough to realise that a booty call from Faith Burbage on a Saturday night was not something to be passed up.

As he knocked on the door, it was opened immediately, and he was pulled inside by a rampant Faith, who was on him as soon as she had closed it behind them. He was flattered by the attention, and there was no denying this witch was very skill in the art of fucking, however ... _widely_ she liked to spread her attentions.

Afterwards, they lay on the hotel bed, and she seemed to want to indulge in some pillow talk, of all things, whereas what he really wanted was to fall into slumber, and maybe do her again in the morning before returning to the castle. But no, she had other ideas. He answered her questions as quickly as he could; strangely most of them were about his evening and the staff supper.

Why she was interested in the visitors he had no idea, but he carefully left out Snape, considering his former colleague had Faith sacked from teaching, instead focusing on Harry Potter. He wasn't _stupid_.

Faith was much impressed that he'd met Potter, and seemed to want to know all about him. The price of fame, he supposed. Whatever it took to tire her out and let him sleep.

\- xxx –

Much later on, as the dawn began to break, Faith Burbage entered a dilapidated dwelling, knocking sharply on the door with a cold hand, which opened and Faith was admitted without the occupant being seen from the road. She moved into the living room and stood before the owner, who was seated in an armchair, apparently not asleep despite the earliness of the hour.

"Godric's Hollow," she breathed, "He lives with Potter in Godric's Hollow. It's been put under a Fidelius today, but it's the centre cottage of three, white walls, not far from the Potter memorial statue."


	62. Chapter 62

**Chapter 62**

Harry and Draco tumbled through the Floo connection from the Hogwarts staff room into their own living room, stepping over the grate and being met by the ever-so-slightly disapproving eyes of their babysitter, Mrs Weasley. Looking the young men over, she made a _uh-hmm_ noise and immediately left for the kitchen, where she returned in an instant with two mugs of coffee.

"You'll get those down you before I leave, boys. I need to know you are both at least partially sober since you have a young child to care for."

They dutifully gulped their coffees, making meaningless small talk with Mrs Weasley to convince her of their sobriety, and probably failing miserably, but nonetheless she bid them goodnight, waved away their offer of payment, and left for the Burrow via the Floo.

Harry nipped upstairs to check on a slumbering Teddy, and Draco flipped himself back onto the sofa, kicking off his shoes and ruminating that it had been a rather nice evening, all things considered. It seemed there was foul play afoot, but really, in all his adult life, had he ever _not_ lived under the shadow of whatever the Death Eaters may or may not be up to? Arseholes, every one of them. They would _not_ ruin the rest of his life, he was determined of that.

He couldn't escape the fact that he felt safe with Harry Potter. His unlikely Gryffindor friend gave him a sense of happiness and security that he could not ever remember feeling before in his life. Now that Snape had placed their cottage under the Fidelius charm it seemed like the final piece in the puzzle, they were untouchable, weren't they?

Harry returned to the living room, looking tired with his outrageous hair wild and messy as always. He plonked himself on the sofa as Draco had done, taking off his glasses and setting them to one side as he rubbed his eyes hard with the heels of his hands. Draco watched him until he stopped and blearily looked around the room.

"How much can you actually see without those things?" he asked.

Harry looked over at him, well rather, looked over in the vicinity of where he was sitting, as his green eyes were strangely unfocused. He waggled his own hand in front of his nose.

"My hand? I can see it perfectly. Anything beyond that is pretty much a blur of large shapes."

"So you can't see me at all?"

"Of course I can _see_ you, you prat, I can see the general shape of you and the bright light of your hair, which I'm still pretty sure is a dye-job, and not natural," he grinned.

Draco shuffled along the sofa, moving himself closer to Harry, emboldened by the amount of wine he had drunk, no doubt.

"Can you see me now?"

Harry paused, as if assessing something.

"Not really."

"Oh. Your eyesight really is bad."

"Yup. You'll need to come closer."

Draco followed the direction, and shuffled up again, so that their legs were now touching.

"How about now?"

His voice came out in a ridiculously husky tone, how the fuck had _that_ happened?

He watched Potter swallow hard, and attempt to focus his vision.

"You're still pretty blurry."

Now it was his own turn to swallow, swallow the fluttering feeling that was rising up from his stomach.

"How much closer do I need to be?"

It was almost a whisper.

"How much closer do you _want_ to be? I'm not going to push you; I told you that, Malfoy."

Calling on his wine-courage again, Draco closed the final distance between them by moving his head forward, touching Harry on the nose with his own.

"I can see you now," Harry told him, and Draco could hear the smile in his voice.

"Glad to hear it. You'd be fucking blind otherwise."

Potter gave him the lightest of kisses on his lips, and then hovered there, waiting for a reaction.

"You're ok?"

"I'm ok."

He felt Harry's arm slip behind him and cup the back of his head, as he returned his lips to their task, kissing him with a gentleness he had never felt before. Well, who would have thought _Saint Potter_ knew how to kiss properly?

After a minute or so, he pulled back, allowing Draco to collect his thoughts. They were both breathing heavily, both slightly pissed and relying heavily on that fact should their first attempt at intimacy go horribly wrong.

"What did you stop for?" Draco asked, affecting his haughty, arrogant tone of previous years, "I thought I made my intentions perfectly clear, _Potter_."

"You fucking Slytherin git," Harry chided, before quickly shooting his other arm around Draco and returning his mouth to where it had been kissing him.

Draco was ready for him this time, and he wanted it. He opened his lips and offered up his tongue, which Harry took gratefully, and they were in a full-on snog. The kind of fireworks that were going off in Draco's head made it abundantly clear why he had never felt like _this_ with Parkinson or any of the other girls he had been with. _This_ was what he'd wanted.

Harry pushed him to lie back on the sofa, still kissing, and Draco allowed it. Oh yes.

\- xxx –

Severus and Hermione only dimly realised that they had changed location during their first kiss as a bonded couple thanks to McGonagall's magic. Both were unwilling to break the most blissful kiss they had experienced together, a transcendent experience heightened by the power of the marriage bond they had just invoked.

His lips moved upon hers as if he meant to possess her entirely, holding her head firmly yet reverently in place as he plundered the very depths of her mouth with his tongue, drawing out her pleasure with skill and love. She kept her arms around his waist, holding him tight, stroking the small of his back with a tender touch.

"The honour you do me, Hermione," he growled, breaking the kiss temporarily in order to speak, "Never in my life should I have thought I would be lucky enough to experience even a fraction of the happiness I feel at this moment."

"I could never imagine being with anyone else but you," she replied, honestly.

"I promise that I will spend the rest of my life devoted to your pleasure. All you desire I will obtain for you. I will protect you with the last breath in my body."

"I have no doubt you will do all of those things."

She reached up and ran a hand through his long hair, pushing it back from his face to expose his dark, striking features. He did not shy away from her like he used to, but instead revelled in her touch. This powerful, arresting wizard was all her own, found in the broken heart of the man that no one had thought to give a second thought to.

"I can hear your thoughts, Hermione," he muttered.

"Good," she replied, "I'm glad you can hear how much I think of you."

He stared at his amazing, outstanding wife with a thump in his heart ... and in his trousers. The pressure to consummate their marriage was magically making itself known, not that he was complaining. He reached down for the hem of her tshirt and pulled it up over her head, to expose the wine-coloured brassiere with the plaited ribbons that he loved so much. He raised an eyebrow.

"You have been wearing this since last night?"

"Yes," she grinned, "it was a treat for after we returned from the dinner at the Three Broomsticks, but other events rather took over, didn't they?"

"They certainly did, and I have not paid your attire the appropriate attention. I shall correct that immediately."

He dipped his head forward into her cleavage, planting sucking kisses all over her creamy white décolleté, enjoying the sumptuous feel of the lace and satin against her hot skin. At the same time he began to unfasten her jeans and push them down over her hips, as far as he could before she wiggled out of them, and he heard the heavy denim hit the floor. He helped her to step out of them, her little pumps being pulled off at the same time, and grasped her hips with his large hands, his long fingers curling around and touching the soft fabric of her matching knickers, toying with the burgundy ribbons tied at the sides, which at a pull would reveal her to his view.

Leaving her dressed in her sumptuous underwear for the present time, he returned to kissing her, building her anticipation of what was to come, running his hands up and down her back, through her long hair, and smoothing over her rounded bum cheeks.

At length, he walked over to the flickering fire and seated her comfortably in one of the large wingback armchairs in front of it. He made to kneel in front of her, but she stopped him.

"Wait. Your clothes, please, husband. And _not_ by magic."

The flames from the large fireplace were reflecting in her whisky-coloured eyes and looked as if they were dancing there. The love this witch had for him, her obvious _desire_ for him, it was quite intoxicating. He stood before her, locked those eyes with his black ones, and pulled his jumper over his head, throwing it to the floor where her own clothing lay.

He kicked off his shoes, and reached down to whip off his socks at the same time. Returning to his full height he began to unbutton his white shirt, wordlessly removing his glamour at the same time. He felt the layers of magic leave the vicious, extensive scarring on his neck as he reached the last button and pulled the shirt from his shoulders; assured of her complete acceptance of his scarred and damaged body.

Severus paused before starting on his trousers, enjoying the expectant look on the face of the little witch sprawled cheekily in the armchair wearing nothing but a luxurious set of underwear that only _he'd_ had the pleasure of seeing, and the ghost of a smirk. She raised her eyebrows to indicate he should continue.

He slowly unbuttoned and unzipped his tailored black trousers, holding on to his undershorts as he pushed them down, removing both garments together so he stood naked before the fire, his strong, pale body bared to her gaze that radiated approval and desire.

"I love you and I owe you my life," he told her, sternly, " _never_ doubt that."

Kneeling before her on the soft hearthrug, he pushed her knees upwards and outwards, resting her legs on the arms of the chair before leaning his face into the crotch of her knickers, licking the soft satin through which he could feel the familiar folds of her labia, and the heat and dampness starting to seep through.

Hermione moaned in pleasure, laying her head back and trusting him entirely with her pleasure. Severus toyed with the material, teasing her by slipping his fingers slightly underneath, before pushing her knickers to one side entirely, and burying his face in her pussy, licking her like a wizard possessed, his tongue moving like a whirling dervish around her clitoris, down to her vaginal opening, further to her little rear-end and back up again, keeping her guessing where he would go next, stoking her arousal higher and making her pant.

" _Fuck!_ Severus ... _fucking hell_ ...oh, oh ..."

Her moans and cries only goaded him faster, making his cock harden beyond belief, honestly, was there any pleasure greater than having your tongue in the hot cunt of your wife and hearing her beg for more? He was the luckiest bastard in the entire wizarding world.

"Let me have it, Hermione," he gasped, still lapping at her, now concentrating his efforts entirely on her clitoris, which was as hard as a small rock and purple with need.

He slid his hands up to her hips and pulled on the ribbons that held her knickers up, releasing them and giving him more space to work. Using his fingers, he opened the outer lips of her labia, spreading them wide so he could both flicker his tongue against every surface of her clit, and hold her hips in place, for she was hopping around with her desire to come.

She let him have it.

The constant swiping of her most sensitive bud sent her over the edge and into orgasm, panting and exclaiming, fluid gushing from her that he frantically lapped up, loving the taste of his witch. She was still spasming when he pulled her hips off the edge of the chair and on to his lap as he knelt before her. He could wait no longer.

As she descended, he guided her on to the bulbous knob of his cock, sliding her down the shaft until she was fully impaled upon him and they were face to face, her sitting upon his thighs.

"I wish to consummate our marriage bond, my outstanding wife," he smirked.

Hermione lurched forwards and began to kiss him, pushing her little tongue between his lips, enticing him into yet another full-on snog. He could not stop his hips from starting to thrust into her, and she started to move her own against him, adding another dimension of pleasure. He reached behind her and unfastened the ribboned brassiere, releasing her breasts, and he enjoyed squeezing the soft globes and twiddling her hardened nipples as they kissed and fucked.

Severus got his knees, lifting Hermione with him, and resting her back against the armchair began to pump into her hard and deep, one hand on her soft stomach. Every muscle of their naked bodies glowed, defined and taught in the orange and gold light of the fire as they celebrated their bond in the most age-old of ways.

As Severus neared his climax, he felt her begin to orgasm around him, her tight walls clamping down upon his cock and pulling him over the cliff with her. He gave her all he had, reluctant to cease his thrusting and end their lovemaking. Tears fell unbidden from his eyes, tears of happiness, of relief, of love and of redemption.

Hermione kissed each one of them away, before leading him to the bed, the bed where they had first spent the night together was now the bed from which they were beginning their married life.

\- xxx -

Andromeda Black sat in the ragged armchair in the dark room, regarding the young woman standing in front of her, who was extremely pretty with ice-blue eyes and hair so blonde she could easily be passed off as a Malfoy herself. Former Hogwarts professor Faith Burbage positively _reeked_ of sex, as she had done every time Andromeda had met her since their first chance meeting in a seedy public house in the arse-end of nowhere a few weeks previously.

Kept abreast of the fate of her lover Lucius by one of his Death Eater friends who had a dubious contact at the Ministry, she knew that he was about to be convicted by his son Draco's testimony, and that a warrant was out for her _own_ arrest for administering the Crucio upon her nephew.

Her carefully-laid plans had all come crashing down due to the premature discovery of their affair by that sodding boy. Her re-entry into magical society following the death of her muggle husband, finally on the arm of a respectable wizard, had all fallen to naught.

She had originally set her sights on Severus Snape, the former Death Eater turned decorated war hero, once she had heard of his new occupation as a private potioneer via Caspar Bergin at St Mungo's. He would certainly make an excellent catch for her, and she had tried to engage him, really she had, but the surly wizard was having none of it.

After hearing from Fenrir last night, she finally knew why. The dirty pervert had been fucking one of his former students, a flighty little piece by the name of Granger, who worked at the Ministry, and had been instrumental in the werewolf legislation, so clearly the girl had a brain in her head. But to take up with a man twice her age and her former professor no less? Disgusting, on both their parts.

So Andromeda had cast her net wider, even joining a magical dating agency to find similarly-aged single wizards with whom she might cultivate a friendship. However, it had happened that the answer was much closer to home than she expected.

On a visit to Malfoy Manor with Teddy, whom Draco had subsequently taken for an outing, she had ended up having the most incredible sex with Lucius, in the absence of Narcissa.

Lucius was a generous and sensitive lover, sensual in a way that was quite unlike Ted had been, and the thrill of the forbidden in fucking her sister's husband added to the excitement of the experience. They were soon in the midst of a full-blown secret affair, which was compounded when she unexpectedly found herself pregnant.

It shouldn't have been too much of a surprise, as it was not uncommon for witches to fall pregnant in their late-forties, but it presented her with the perfect _fait-accompli_ with which to ensnare her brother-in-law. Sick of his wife's coldness and her frustration with his effective squib status, his house arrest and her frequent absences, they hatched a plan to remove Narcissa from the equation, and create a new Malfoy family dynasty to return them both to their rightful positions in wizarding society. Lucius would adopt Teddy as his son, and he would also be raised as a Malfoy, with all the privileges that entailed.

Andromeda had felt nervous the first time she had been in the company of a group of fugitive Death Eaters, whom Lucius had invited to Malfoy Manor to arrange the attack upon Narcissa. These men, and a few women, were fierce but world-weary, their lack of leadership and the threat of imminent arrest and incarceration in Azkaban the minute they stepped out of hiding was beginning to grind upon them all. They had looked to Lucius, and subsequently herself, for direction and guidance.

These were the people with whom she had found herself living since Lucius' arrest. They had a small number of _safe-houses_ dotted around the country; some in overgrown forests, some in muggle streets, and some in old shacks that looked like ruins. All were unplottable and provided shelter for these displaced witches and wizards to live, since their own homes and assets had been seized by the Ministry after the fall of Voldemort.

She signed and rubbed her swollen abdomen, her six-month pregnancy finally beginning to show in earnest; her time was running out to rectify this situation. Her only hope was finding Draco and _persuading_ him to retract his statement. It was unlikely she could save Lucius, whom she had heard had submitted to Veritaserum and spilled his guts, but hopefully he would take pity on a pregnant witch, especially one carrying his half-sister. She could then petition the Ministry that Lucius was lying about her involvement in arranging the attack on Narcissa, he could go down for _that_ on his own.

And if Draco couldn't be persuaded? Well, then that was where the Death Eaters and werewolves came in.

Fenrir Greyback and some of his pack had arrived the previous evening, with some most useful information regarding Severus Snape and Hermione Granger, who had escaped attack by apparating to the gates of Hogwarts, and they were inside the secure perimeter of the school when Fenrir had caught up with them.

Andromeda had tasked some of the Death Eaters to find out the location of Snape's potions business premises, knowing that Draco worked for him as his apprentice and that this would be the best place to find him, and bend him to her ... way of thinking. She had not seen her nephew since he had escaped from her Crucio attack at the Manor all those weeks ago, and did not know where he was living now. She presumed he must also have Teddy still with him. She missed the boy; he was all she had left of Nymphadora.

Needing an effective spy, her thoughts had turned to the young woman she had befriended, a former professor who had been fired from Hogwarts for bedding a student. Many nights in the grotty pub the two women had talked, sharing their secrets over many glasses of strong mead, Faith telling the older witch about her obsession with sex, how it consumed her every thought, and how Snape had reported her student liaison to the headmistress and had her fired from a position that she loved, and excelled at.

Yes, a girl with a serious grudge was perfect for Andromeda's needs. She had contacted Faith Burbage and engaged her help, and the young witch had been keen to assist in anything that might bring down Snape, coming up with the idea of putting in a late-night call to a professor there, and essentially fucking information from him.

The information that Faith was able to extract with her particular brand of _pillow talk_ had been more than Andromeda could have hoped for. The young wizard she had extracted, a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor by the name of Goldsmith, had strangely not revealed anything about Severus Snape, but instead had proudly told Faith that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, who were now apparently living together _as a couple_ with _her_ grandson, had been present at Hogwarts castle that night instead. A late Saturday supper had been held in the staff room, and the atmosphere had apparently been most convivial, and Potter, his tongue loosened with the effects of alcohol, had revealed far more information than he should have in general conversation.

Faith had brought Andromeda the information of where Draco was living, even including the key fact that the residence was now under a Fidelius charm set by Snape, so it was likely to be completely secure and impenetrable. However, that was no problem. Knowing Draco was living in Godric's Hollow, a small village and in a terraced row of cottages, it would be easy to have someone lie in wait for one of them to reveal themselves when leaving the house.

"You told me that Severus Snape was at Hogwarts last night," Faith accused her.

"That was the information I had been given."

"It was wrong. Avery told me nothing of Snape, nor of a Miss Granger. He spoke only of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy."

"I cannot help that, Faith. I do appreciate your help. I am sure you enjoyed your ... evening?"

"You used me."

"Unintentionally, dear."

Faith glared at her, as if trying to gauge whether it was worth pushing the issue further. Looking around the dank room, where Andromeda sat surrounded by several vicious-looking Death Eaters and a couple of werewolves, she obviously thought the better of it and decided to leave whilst it was still her own choice to do so.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and left the house, and Andromeda heard her heels clicking down the street, followed by the unmistakeable crack of an angry apparition.

She couldn't worry about silly young girls. She had a limited amount of time in which to _convert_ Draco to her way of thinking, and now she knew where to find him. Disguising her appearance with a crafty piece of magic, she apparated to Godric's Hollow, seeking out the place which Faith had described. It would be essential that she told her _hired help_ exactly where to lie in wait for her nephew, and where they could conceal themselves.

Arriving in the small village, still in the gloomy mist just after dawn, she began to walk around, her eyes sharp and alert. The baby girl moved inside her stomach, causing a sudden pain.

 _Relax sweetheart,_ she thought, placing a comforting hand upon her belly; _I am doing this all for you._


	63. Chapter 63

**Chapter 63**

Walking through the small village of Godric's Hollow, eyes keen to the description that she had been provided with, it did not take Andromeda long to find what she had been seeking. As the sun came up in earnest, the pregnant witch had stopped to take a break, the muscles of her lower back that were softening in pregnancy were causing her pain on the long walk. She took a few deep breaths whilst leaning upon a waist-height stone wall that was covered covered in lichen, when an old muggle woman opened the door of her cottage to let a fat little dog out into her front garden to relieve itself. The woman was still in her dressing gown and slippers, with a hairnet over her short, grey curls, and seemed only partly-awake, which was unsurprising at this early hour.

Andromeda watched the elderly woman amble around the slightly overgrown garden, the dewy grass soaking her slippers as she picked up after her dog, when she came across a small ball at her feet. She picked it up, smiling indulgently and with a small shake of her head, before tossing it over the garden fence, presumably returning it to the garden of its owner. Perhaps there was a child living next door.

But Andromeda's keen and suspicious eye saw what someone else might have missed in the split-second it took. The ball was not a muggle toy, but was in fact a miniature quaffle, and when the old women had tossed it, it had _not_ landed on the other side of the fence as would have been expected by any onlooker, but instead had disappeared as soon as it had crossed the boundary line between the two cottages.

This could mean only one thing; that _this_ was the row of three cottages she had been seeking. Draco's secret-kept home was hidden in the centre, making it look as if there were only two cottages sitting semi-detatched, and his elderly neighbour had tossed the toy quaffle (was this Teddy's?) from her garden to theirs, which must have been accidentally thrown over the fence during a game.

Having made her discovery, she moved away from her position on the moss-covered wall immediately, having no idea whether she was being watched from the windows of the missing cottage that was hidden from her eyes. She needed no further information, the flight of that quaffle had confirmed there was an unplottable dwelling in between the two cottages, and now she looked around, she could see that all the other cottages in this particular street were grouped in threes, and they were indeed not far from the village church and war memorial as Faith had indicated following her grilling of Avery Goldsmith. This was undoubtedly the place; it could be nowhere else, surely?

She could do nothing further here, the strength of a Fidelius charm meant that only Secret-Keepers could access or even see the properties the charm protected. She remembered during the war, before Ted went on the run, hearing stories of Death Eaters standing vigil outside suspected dwellings, waiting for the tiny human errors that would identify the presence of a property under the Fidelius. A snatch of cloak from an imprecise apparition to the front step. A careless muttering in the street outside. _A ball thrown from one garden to the next._

Retreating to a sheltered spot a little further down the empty street, she apparated back to the unpleasant house she was currently residing in against her desire, taking the creaking, narrow stairs to the back room that had been allocated to her, and sinking back on to the uncomfortable single bed, her pregnant body feeling heavy and tired. She allowed her eyes to drift closed, her baby demanding the rejuvenating sleep it needed.

\- xxx –

Harry and Draco woke up on the sofa the following morning, bleary-eyed and both with hangovers threatening to pound on the insides of their skulls at any moment. They were fully clothed, but wrapped around one another in a slightly desperate fashion, and Draco had a very hot and sweaty left side of his face where he had obviously been laying on Potter's chest most of the night. One out of the pair of them, they had no idea which, had strangely had enough presence of mind before passing out, to magically expand the seating area on the sofa to give them more room to lie down, and it now looked quite bizarre and out of proportion with its undersized back and arms. It had done the trick though, since it seemed that they had slept well and comfortably despite the cramped setting of the old sofa.

Through the morning silence, there soon came excited shouts drifting from Teddy's room upstairs, he had obviously woken for the day and was demanding attention from one or both of his carers. Harry groaned good-naturedly, pushed himself up into a sitting position, dragged a hand through his hair and scrabbled around for his glasses which he found halfway across the room on the carpet. Before he stood up, he leaned forward and kissed Draco softly on the lips, unlike his usual peck which he generally bestowed to the top of his head.

"That's our morning call. I'll get him, if you want to put some breakfast on?"

And just like that, without any awkward, analytical conversation, the next chapter of their relationship was established. Draco rather liked the whole idea of it. To be honest, it couldn't really work better, especially since the two of them were already living together and raising a child together. He sniggered at the thought.

Hopping up from the bizarrely-expanded sofa (clearly not a very competent transfiguration from whichever one of them had cast the spell) with rather more speed than he should have done, given the delicate state of his head, and headed for the kitchen, ready to start their usual family Sunday together. Nothing different. Everything as normal. Oh, apart from the fact that he and Harry had snogged and groped for hours like a couple of horny fourth-years in their own living room the previous evening. He supposed _that_ was pretty different.

As he filled the old-fashioned whistling kettle that Harry loved, having been brought up in a dreadfully muggle home with an abominable electric _jug kettle_ , Draco looked out of the small window at their neat front garden (his work, of course) and at the village of Godric's Hollow beyond, dominated by the picturesque church and the war memorial obelisk which became the beautiful statue of baby Harry and his parents when a magical being came near.

The mini quaffle that Harry had purchased for Teddy in Quality Quidditch Supplies was sitting in the middle of their garden, like a big blue pygmy puff on the tidy front lawn, which irked him slightly. Potter never put _anything_ away after he had finished using it. He opted not to nag, however. _Not today_. He smiled to himself at the thought he may one day become the male equivalent of a nagging wife, happy that the thought was not in any way unpleasant, and began to lay the table for their breakfast.

\- xxx –

Monday morning found Severus and Hermione entwined in the centre of the giant sleigh bed in the loft of the barn, where they had spent most of Sunday after returning from Hogwarts indulging themselves with many rounds of post-marital sex. Both were actually quite exhausted, and not at all keen for the honeymoon to end and real life to begin again. Severus was turning on as much charm as his inherently surly nature would permit, in an attempt to persuade his new wife not to leave him for something so mundane and tedious as _work_.

"Stay here with me, wife. I am most reluctant to let you out of my bed."

"Severus, I _have_ to work."

"Don't work. I have enough money for the both of us. Stay here. Stay here and make love to me for another day, and another."

He slid a hand up the side of her naked body, kneading blissful little circles into her back and kissing her anywhere he could reach. She allowed it briefly, enjoying his sensual touch, before gently moving herself away from him.

"I have to work. _For me_. You know this."

He flung himself back on the pillow in a display of mock-petulance.

"I know," he huffed, "I just want you _here_."

He indicated the still-warm space in the bed that she had just vacated, and she crooked a corner of her mouth in amusement at his sulking, although secretly happy to be so desired by the wizard she adored.

"You have work to do too, I believe? Unless you intend to become a _kept_ wizard?"

He smirked.

"Now, that _does_ sound appealing. Laying in bed all day whilst my young wife brings home the bacon."

"You know full well you would go completely insane without your work and research to occupy that formidable brain of yours."

He conceded her exceptionally valid point with a shrug.

"May I at least have the pleasure of watching you shower?"

A beautiful smile spread across her face.

"Severus, you may shower _with_ me, if you remove yourself from that bed within the next two seconds."

He wasn't sure he'd ever moved so fast in his life.

\- xxx –

Having had a tense and difficult week with an especially cantankerous and surprisingly _newly-wed_ Snape, Draco was especially relieved when Friday came around again, his agreed day off, and the one day he had Teddy all to himself. He had arrived at the barn on the previous Monday morning to find Granger still there, stomping around like a hot-footed elf and comically irate because her new husband had made her late in leaving for work at the Ministry. Apparently the cause had been something regarding an incident in the shower. Draco didn't even want to _think_ about what that could mean, and metaphorically stuck his fingers in his ears to block out most of the awkward details.

Of course, Severus and Hermione had _had_ to tell him about their impromptu bonding ceremony at Hogwarts before she left, in the most hilariously matter-of-fact way that was so typical of both of them. They could have been describing a business deal that they were both mildly pleased with. Still, Draco was actually genuinely pleased for them, although he was yet to wrap his head _fully_ around the relationship between the class know-it-all and her former professor, and wasn't entirely sure he wanted to.

He and Severus had had a busy week with some of their biggest orders to date, and his potions master had begun making noises about needing an assistant, about having no time to train Draco adequately, and muttering that he wanted to spend time on private research, not brewing cough potions. Draco kept his head down, worked hard, and most importantly, made no mistakes. With his recent marriage, keeping STS Potions running and the very real Death Eater threat currently hanging over his head like an ominous dark cloud, Snape was entitled to feel a little pressured.

He enjoyed the most chilled-out day possible with Teddy, and they had some impressive-looking jam tarts made by their own hands waiting for Harry when he arrived home from a long day in the auror training department. Draco couldn't guarantee that the tarts made by Teddy were _entirely_ free of snot or dribble, but Harry didn't seem to have fear about that, and tucked in to the home-made treats with gusto, making overly-dramatic eating noises, much to his godson's delight.

That night, Harry moved into Draco's room, by unspoken mutual agreement. The pile of disorganised detritus he referred to as his belongings, however, would stay in his own. It seemed like a good compromise.

\- xxx –

Saturday morning dawned grey and cold, but the sight of Potter's mussed head slumbering on the other side of his bed warmed his heart, even if his mouth _was_ hanging half-open, rather unattractively. His glasses and his holly wand were on the bedside cabinet, his chest bare down to his tartan sleep-pants. He bore the marks of combat, nicks and scars littered his arms and torso, no longer was the lightning-scar the only mark that marred his young skin.

In a fit of charity inspired by the sweet picture Harry made in his bed for the first time, Draco decided to let him sleep a while longer, and so got himself and Teddy dressed, before leaving for a toddle at Ted's pace down to the village shop to get a loaf of warm bakery bread and some fresh eggs for a leisurely weekend breakfast. He closed the cottage gate behind them, looking up at the gloomy sky and wondering if it might rain before they made the short trip.

As they crossed the street, Teddy holding on to his finger for support, two men fell into step behind them, as if out of nowhere. Instinctively, Draco turned around, seeing first the black cloaks, and them looking upwards, two faces that were horribly familiar to him. Before he had a chance to take any kind of preventative action, one of the men had separated his hand from Teddy's with a quick downward chopping motion, and the other had clapped a meaty hand upon his back, forcing him into a Side-Along apparition.

Draco felt like all the air was being squeezed out of his lungs as he was held tightly by four strong hands. He could not move or struggle, he could barely even breathe. Just as he thought he would pass out, they landed in a musty room that was as grey as the weather outside, his knees unsteady and bile rising up in his throat. He would _not_ vomit, there was no time, he must find out what the bloody hell had just happened.

Every surface he could around him was covered in a thick layer of dust, all the furniture looked like it belonged in another century, and all the pictures were unfamiliar. He wrestled against the hold of the two death eaters, for he knew them both, Evan Rosier, an evil bastard that was a close friend of his father, and Walden Macnair, a hard-faced, overly-short man with close-cropped hair that made him look bald.

"Release your hold on my nephew."

A commanding voice echoed across as the door to the dilapidated sitting room opened and Andromeda walked in, her stomach swollen with pregnancy and her face cold and unfeeling. She had never reminded him more of Aunt Bellatrix as she did at this moment, both in looks and demeanour. Rosier and Macnair let him go, and he wrenched away from them as soon as their grip loosened, headed towards the door that Andromeda had just entered through.

"Not so fast, Draco," she called, sitting down heavily in the only armchair and casting a spell towards the door with a fast _whip_ of her wand, slamming and holding it fast.

He tried the door futilely, before attempting to apparate away unsuccessfully, and then whirled around to face his aunt, a furious look upon his thin face.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing, Aunt Dromeda? Where's Teddy? I was holding onto him when these bastards grabbed hold of me. He's in the street! Alone! He's not even two years old!"

"Such language, Draco," she drawled, apparently not in the least concerned about the well-being of her grandson.

"Would you rather that Edward was brought here?"

Draco looked around the room. To his absolute horror, Fenrir Greyback had entered through a rear door, accompanied by a few other bedraggled-looking wizards whom he could only presume to be fellow werewolves. Greyback had always fucking terrified him, even when he was technically on _their_ side. The only person Greyback fought for was himself, he was absolutely not to be trusted by either the Light or the Dark.

No, he would not rather Teddy was here. It was a frightening thought that the toddler was probably safer wandering the streets of Godric's Hollow alone than here with these animals. He tried to quiet his racing mind by remembering they lived in a small, close-knit village community. Mostly everyone knew everyone else. Someone would find Teddy very fast and know where he belonged. He clung to that thought and hoped beyond hope that he was correct. He remained silent and did not answer his aunt. He needed to think how to get out of this place, urgently.

"I need your help, Draco," Andromeda proposed.

"I'd rather die than help you. You killed my mother, you insane bitch."

She shook her head in a rather patronising manner.

" _That_ was not me."

"Well, you arranged it then! You, and that waste of skin you were shagging, the man I'm ashamed to call my father!"

"You go too far. I will not hear Lucius spoken of in that manner. I need to speak to you, and I intend for you to listen."

Draco was incredulous at her audacity, considering what she had been accused of.

"What are you going to do if I refuse, _Crucio_ me again?"

She regarded her nephew, looking him up and down as if assessing his resolve and his capabilities.

"If I must."

\- xxx –

Harry was awoken from his pleasant lie-in by an insistent knocking on the front door. He ignored it at first, after all, he presumed that Draco was in the house somewhere, since he was no longer in the bed next to him, but then after a while he wondered whether Draco had unexpectedly gone out, since the light knocking continued.

Pulling on am old quidditch tshirt over his bare chest, he walked down the narrow stairs, opening the red door of the cottage to find Mrs Armitage on the doorstep, looking most distressed, and holding hands with none other than Teddy, who looked completely unconcerned and was bending down trying to pick a dandelion that was growing next to the front step.

"I think I've found something that belongs to you, Harry," she said, worriedly, lifting the small boy with some difficulty and passing him to his godfather.

Harry was completely confused, and was half-wondering if he was still asleep. He shifted Teddy astride his hip and tried to focus on his elderly neighbour.

"What? I'm sorry, Mrs Armitage, how come you have Teddy? Where's Draco?"

She paused before speaking; as if afraid she was going to reveal some terrible secret.

"Is Draco not at home? I found young Teddy in the middle of the street, just now, alone."

A million thoughts shot through Harry's mind at a great rate and his heart began to thump. If Draco had had an accident, his injured body would have been lying close to Teddy. He wanted to run straight out into the street and look, but something stopped him. A horrible feeling, just a feeling, that it might not be safe out there, and if he rushed out, Teddy in his arms, he may be walking into the same trap that Draco had.

Already he was being transported back to his school years, the years lived under the threat of Voldemort, the constant fear; the pressure put on a teenage boy that he was ill-prepared to deal with. Harry Potter was once again afraid.

With sickening clarity, he focused on the fact that there was a damn good reason that Snape had insisted on placing their cottage under the Fidelius charm, it was because they were under threat. Draco had walked outside the boundary and become visible. Oh bloody hell.

Mrs Armitage was looking at him, curiously.

"Can I do anything to help you, Harry dear?"

He forced himself to get a grip for the sake of the old woman who had most likely, if his suspicions of foul play were correct, saved Teddy's life.

"No, no. I'm fine. I'm just worried about where Draco could be. I ... I can't thank you enough for finding Teddy and bringing him home, Mrs Armitage, really."

She nodded, although didn't seem entirely convinced, and left to return to her own cottage, reminding Harry she was just next door if he needed her help.

He did need help, but it unfortunately wasn't the kind of assistance that an octogenarian muggle woman could provide, lovely and kind as she was. He sped inside to the fireplace, needing to get Teddy to the Burrow, a place of warmth and safety, so that he could go and find the man who _could_ help him. The only man who had _ever_ been able to truly help him.

\- xxx –

"So, listen to me, Draco."

His aunt was a fucking joke. He had no choice but to listen, being trapped in a room full of failed death eaters, drooling werewolves and assorted psychopaths that would most likely rip him to shreds if he didn't.

"You know what has happened," she continued, when he did not offer a verbal response.

"I am living in hiding, and will be forced to birth my baby in exile, without trained assistance, if I cannot clear my name. You can do that for me."

"What are you suggesting?" he replied, curtly.

"Tell the aurors that your memory was tampered with before being submitted as an official statement. Tell them that it wasn't me who cast _Crucio_ upon you."

He looked at her in disbelief, an expression not wasted upon her, and it was clear she knew she needed to up her game.

"Free me from this involuntary incarceration, Draco, if not for me, but for your sister here."

Draco's eyes fell to her distended stomach that she was caressing with her pale hands. A _sister_? He had not even given that a moment's thought.

"Also my _cousin_ ," he retorted, cross that she had made him question his resolve, "rather confusing for a small baby, don't you think?"

She smiled at him, in an irritatingly smug way that made him actually want to punch her in the face like a muggle brawler.

"Does that mean you'll help me? For the baby's sake? I know you hate me, but for the baby?"

"I don't suppose I have any choice," he lied, knowing that as soon as he got himself out of this precarious situation that helping Andromeda Black escape justice for the murder of his mother would be the _last_ thing on his to-do list.

"Good," she replied, as if things had been settled as _quickly as that_ with no blame or recrimination upon herself, "Now this is what I propose ..."

"Wait just a minute!"

She was interrupted by the loud, growling voice of Fenrir Greyback.

"There is a lot more to settle here, Andromeda. What about Snape?"

"What about him?"

"Our deal was that we would find the boy, and he would lead us to Snape."

She looked just a tiny bit wrong-footed, but recovered her composure quickly.

"I am sure Draco will assist you with whatever you need, once he has secured my liberty."

 _What?_

"Are you actually serious, Aunt Dromeda? You want me to help you, and then you'll leave me to the mercy of ... these _others_?"

He spoke carefully, not wanting to use the words he _really_ felt about the assembled fugitives.

"Apparently she is indeed serious," said Macnair, slowly pacing forwards towards them from his position at the side of the room, "and apparently she has forgotten our reasons for seeking Snape in the first place."

Everyone appeared to be listening, and so the squat, ugly death eater continued.

"Snape is the only bearer of the Dark Mark that _got away with it_. Excepting yourself Draco, and in truth you were only Marked due to the gross errors of your foolish father. We are prepared to overlook that. But Severus, he made fools of us all, even the Dark Lord. We who escaped from Hogwarts before the Aurors swarmed now live in exile, in constant fear of arrest, and imprisonment in Azkaban without trial, guilty by association."

 _That's because you_ _ **are**_ _fucking guilty_ , thought Draco, remembering only too well the sickening death eater revels where every man and woman in this room had participated in the most degrading and inhumane acts imaginable.

"We will all eventually be captured. The Aurors have too many powerful weapons in their arsenal that can track the bearers of the dark mark. However, if we go down, be assured that Severus Snape will go down before us, in the most painful way imaginable. That traitorous bastard is going to get what's coming to him. You can take us to him. You _will_ take us to him."

"He won't be doing anything until he has testified to the Aurors that he provided them with a false memory that wrongly incriminated me!" Andromeda cried, shrilly across the room.

Walden Macnair spun around to face her, seated in the only armchair like a regal queen of the assembled, drawing a short, dark wood wand as he did so.

 _Avada Kedavra._

Andromeda Black slumped lifeless into the chair, her death silent and instantaneous.

"She has played amongst the Death Eaters for too long," drawled Macnair, returning his wand to the sleeve of his cloak, "I tire of her. Let us move on. Now, you will take us to the Secret-Kept home of Severus Snape, Draco."

"And if I refuse?"

"I don't see that as an option, do you?"

He gestured to Fenrir Greyback, who strode forwards, drawing himself up to his terrifyingly huge full height, his teeth bared and his eyes fixed directly on Draco's as he moved to stand before him. The werewolf, untransformed but more wolf-like than any normal human should be, reached out a huge hand and grabbed Draco by the throat, pushing him hard against the wall, moving his face so close that Draco could smell his fetid breath, a disgusting aroma of raw meat and halitosis.

Large globules of drool began to drip from the corners of his mouth, like a wild animal that has sensed the presence of its next fresh meal. Draco could feel the sharp fingernails like claws clutching around his neck and his head began to pound from the blow against the wall.

"You have one chance, Malfoy," Greyback threatened. " _Just the one_."


	64. Chapter 64

**Chapter 64**

Hermione, Harry and Severus were sat on the long sofa in the living room of Cliffside Cottage, looking over the cold Cornish beach, all out of ideas and exhausted from hours of searching what seemed like the length and breadth of the country for Draco. Harry was tense and skittish, his nerves shredded by the possibilities of what could have happened, and Severus looked pale and drawn, his eyes grave and his face sinking further into its already deep lines with concern and not a small amount of fear and anger.

She and Severus had been enjoying a relaxed breakfast in the cottage and looking forward to the weekend, hoping it would be entirely less eventful than the previous one, when Harry had floo-called them urgently from the Burrow, where he had just dropped Teddy with the Weasleys. He requested to come through and of course she had opened the connection to admit him immediately.

He explained, in as calm a fashion as he could manage, that their neighbour had found Teddy alone in the street outside their home, with no sign of Draco. He had no other ideas, no other clues.

Severus had listened to him stony-faced, his eyes becoming as neutral and unreadable as she remembered them from school. Now they had spent all this time together, she knew it was his learned defences taking hold, the defences that shut down his emotions and feelings as a way to protect himself in a dangerous situation. After a long pause where both she and Harry had sat staring at him like two students waiting for a teacher to give them the answer, he spoke.

"We should not summon the Aurors at this point in time. I agree that for Draco to simply disappear leaving the child alone is highly suspect, but a contingent of clueless aurors descending upon Godric's Hollow in a mad panic will not aid the situation, if it is as we believe, that Draco has been taken."

She and Harry had nodded their agreement, and they had begun searching straight away. They had first taken the floo to Lawton Barn, thinking that any foul play would surely involve Severus as well, but it had been deserted, just as empty and tidy as they had left it the previous evening when they had departed for their weekend at the cottage.

From there, they had apparated one-by-one, due to the tiny nature of the barn's apparition porch, to Malfoy Manor, where they landed outside the imposing gates that were unusually hanging open and unsecured by magic. Hermione remembered the last time she had been here, kidnapped by Scabior, Greyback and other Snatchers, imprisoned by the Malfoys and tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange. Severus had reached out of his cloak and grasped her hand, his tight grip offering the support that he was not able to provide verbally at that moment, being so emotionally shut down.

She had no doubt that his own previous visits to this deviant, sprawling estate were also playing through his own mind and that he would be fighting hard inside his own head to keep his demons from affecting his focus upon the task in hand.

Carefully, and with their wands at the ready, they'd headed down the gravel path towards the house, the grounds that had previously been manicured to within an inch of their lives showed the beginnings of overgrowth and neglect in the absence of Narcissa's care. As they approached the house and ascended the wide, stone steps, Severus was able to unlock the door with a simple _Alohomora_ , and they entered into the echoing hallway, the black and white chequered floor dusty underfoot.

"Draco!"

Harry had not been able to stop himself calling out, but his call echoed uselessly around the high walls, bouncing off the portraits and the low chandeliers. Severus cast a _Revelio_ to detect any presence bar their own, but there was nothing.

Over the next few hours they had visited a number of places, even ending up in the muggle graveyard in Little Hangleton that had made Harry so frightened that he vomited right there on the ground. Clearing up the mess with a quick Tergeo, Hermione suggested that they return to the cottage to eat, rest and think again, and there they remained, drinking needless cups of tea and wondering what on earth was going on, clueless as to where Draco could possibly be.

Mid-afternoon, the light suddenly became dark around the open lounge window as an enormous black owl came into view and landed on the sill, a letter tied to its leg and a murderous expression on its face. Hannibal.

She jumped up and went over to the bird; that was holding out its leg in an agitated fashion as if she was not moving fast enough for his liking. The letter was for Severus. Why was his own bird bringing him a letter? She untied the small scroll and handed it to him quickly, as he had moved to stand next to her.

Severus took the scroll from her outstretched hand and unfurled it.

 _Severus_

 _I am at the barn, finishing that potion we started together yesterday. Only problem is that I need the final ingredient now. I know you are off for the weekend, but I really do need you to bring it now so I can finish._

 _Can you let me know by return owl that you have received this message, and when I can expect you?_

 _Thanks_

 _Draco_

She had read it with him, and passed it to Harry once they had finished the short missive.

"But, Draco wasn't at work yesterday," Harry pointed out, rather unnecessarily.

"Indeed he wasn't," Severus agreed, "and I am tempted to believe that he has been forced to write this letter in order to lure me to the barn, advising me in the only way he knew how that something unpleasant awaits me.

"Draco has broken the Secret of the barn's location?" Hermione was aghast.

"I doubt that he had a great deal of choice, Hermione. _If_ he has been taken, and kept for this long against his will, I should imagine it has taken them hours to physically and mentally break him into finally revealing the location."

Harry let out a cry, falling to the sofa and putting his head in his hands. If anyone was able to second-guess the workings of a group of Death Eaters, it was Snape.

Severus took the parchment from Harry's clenched fingers, and summoned a muggle pen from a drawer in the kitchen. Hermione looked over his shoulder as he leaned on the breakfast bar and wrote a reply underneath Draco's note.

 _Draco_

 _I understand that you need to finish the potion we began. I have some time and will bring the dried aconite for the Wolfsbane now._

 _Expect me shortly_

 _Severus_

He re-rolled the scroll and attached it to Hannibal's leg, and the huge black owl flew off quickly and with great intent, not even stopping for an edible treat or reward.

"You're not going there now?"

Hermione placed her hands on his upper arm, feeling how hard and tense he was holding his muscles. He was afraid, she knew he was.

"I have no choice. If there has been a security breach on my private wards I need to address that. It is also likely that if we wait for Aurors they will cause such pandemonium that it may result in Draco being ... in further danger."

"You mean, Draco being killed, don't you," Harry cried, "I know that's what you meant!"

"Becoming hysterical will not assist us. Draco has done all he can. He has advised me by means of this note that something is amiss, since we were of course not working on a potion yesterday. By this obvious lie, although one that would go undetected by whomever is forcing him to write it, he has alerted me to the presence of danger. In my response, I have attempted to advise him that I understand the message by acknowledging his lie. I have specifically mentioned Wolfsbane as there is a cauldron of it on the long-brew bench, which should give veracity to his story."

Hermione turned him to face her, cupping his face with her hands.

"You're going to go, aren't you?"

He sighed heavily.

"I have no choice."

She searched his face with her eyes, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs as if trying to commit him to memory both visually and by touch.

"There are many words I wish to say."

"Say them when I return home, Hermione."

She stood on her tiptoes and placed a lingering kiss to his cold lips. His eyes were still dark and closed-off, not revealing his feelings, but she could guess them well. He would need his defences for whatever lay before him, however, so she stepped back and allowed him to go, but the loud _crack_ of his apparition was like a dagger piercing her heart.

\- xxx -

Severus arrived in the small apparition porch of Lawton Barn, walking as naturally as he could manage into his own airy workroom to find only Draco behind the long-brew workbench, needlessly stirring the large cauldron of Wolfsbane. His apprentice looked up at the sound of his entry, his ice-blue eyes full of fear, and his face covered in cuts and bruises.

"Been in a fight, Malfoy?" he sneered, with a raised eyebrow, "I should have thought you were a little old for such childish pursuits now."

If he were not to acknowledge Draco's injuries, this would look suspicious; however by dismissing them as fisticuffs, he had hopefully bought them some time where the intruders thought he was still unaware of their presence.

Because he was _already_ fully aware that his workroom and home had been encroached.

His innate spy's instinct had him scanning the surroundings at a great rate. He had seen several, near-invisible shimmers of magic that suggested there were a number of people disillusioned here in this room. He could smell the fetid stench of unwashed dirt, body odour, dried blood and raw meat, meaning that a number of them were werewolves; undoubtedly Fenrir Greyback was here, amongst others. He remained near to the apparition porch, the smell was extremely close, no doubt that psychotic bastard Greyback was the nearest to him.

"Draco," he called, in what he hoped was a neutral voice, "come here and inspect the shredded aconite I purchased this morning, and tell me if it is suitable. Obviously _I_ know, but as my apprentice it is essential that you recognise whether a product is of sufficient quality to use in our potions. You can stop stirring the Wolfsbane for now."

He pulled a tiny brown-paper parcel from inside his cloak, and began to toy with the string as if to open it, knowing that it contained nothing but some clippings of common herbs that he had purchased in the Diagon Alley apothecary the previous day.

Draco removed the glass stirring rod from the potion, and stood it in the rack next to the cauldron. He moved out from behind the workbench with difficulty, and began to limp across the expansive workroom towards Severus. He was clearly in immense pain and trying to hide it.

 _What had these bastards done in order to force Draco to give up the Secret?_

"Come on, boy. I don't have all day. If it is not what you require then I shall need to go out again to collect more."

As he shuffled painfully across the flagstoned floor, Severus wondered how much more time he could buy before the disillusioned Death Eaters realised what he was up to, which was to try and get Draco out of the barn and to safety. He caught Draco's eye, and used his Legilimency to throw his voice into the younger man's head, something he had not done for many a year.

"Draco. Do not make any visible recognition that you can hear me. I want you to walk over to me, take the package from my hands and then walk straight into the porch and apparate immediately to the garden of Hermione's cottage. Tell her to summon the aurors there. Do not attempt to be brave. Do _exactly_ as I tell you."

The sullen and disparaging look on Draco's face as he held Severus' eye meant that he played his part perfectly. He slouched over to him, taking the package from his hands and as he went to open it, stepping directly into the tiny porch and apparating away.

Immediately, the shimmers of magic that were giving away the whereabouts of the intruders began to dissipate as they cancelled their disillusionments. They were _everywhere_. There were Death Eaters near his seating area, and around the workbenches. He recognised every last one of them and seeing their faces again made his stomach churn. Macnair. Mulciber. Rosier. Cannington. Ursell. Evil deviants, without exception. It seemed as if every last one of the remaining fugitive Death Eaters were here in his barn. _Every_ last one ...

Up his pristine cherrywood stairs there were standing filthy looking wizards, undoubtedly un-transformed werewolves, since it was not a full moon. He recognised David Bergin, the enthusiastic and intelligent young potions researcher he had met at St Mungo's all those months ago. His poor life choices had led him here, when he was on the cusp of finally achieving everything he could have ever wanted. _I cannot save you, you stupid little bastard_. He was not inclined to be charitable, since the idiot had had his hands on Hermione.

Greyback was within two paces of him, breathing heavily and a murderous look upon his despicable face. Severus knew he had but a few seconds to act before the mob reacted as one. They would tear him limb from limb and enjoy doing it.

He needed to rid the world of these people, once and for all. Peace could not be achieved whilst there were still those alive and at liberty who were loyal to Voldemort's ideals, or those who refused to take the medication to control their own dangerous condition so that others would not be harmed.

 _Every last one of them appeared to be here, in his barn ..._

And so he made his decision. It was a decision that would most likely lead to his own death, but in doing so he would relieve wizardkind of these pollutants to its existence, perhaps absolving himself of some of the despicable crimes that he himself had committed.

It was an easy choice.

With one swift movement, he whipped his wand from his sleeve and aimed it at Fenrir Greyback, casting the incantation for _Fiendfyre_ as the terrifying, volcanic blaze shot from the end of it with such force that he struggled to keep a hold of his ebony wand. The wall of fire blasted the huge werewolf off his feet, reducing him to nothing but a fireball that exploded into a cloud of black ash.

He allowed the Fiendfyre to continue vomiting from his wand in a tsunami of red-hot flame that had a life of its own as it twisted and turned around the high-ceilinged room, looking for things to burn. Before any of the intruders could approach him, he cast his wand, spewing fire, around the room in a smooth arc at waist-height to engulf everything and everyone in its rapacious, fiery jaws. The evil flames began to consume all that was in its path, death eater, werewolf, his beloved workroom.

Severus had but a split-second to save his own life. He threw himself into the apparition porch he stood next to in a dive, concentrating with all his might on the garden of Hermione's cottage, imagining her lovely face there waiting for him. He felt his chest begin to constrict, and he was unsure whether it was because he was on fire or because he was apparating.

He was about to find out.

\- xxx –

Draco landed with a heavy thump on the lawn, every part of his tortured body screaming with pain. Almost immediately he heard the door of the cottage thrown open, and the running footsteps of Potter and Granger, who were at his side within an instant.

"Aurors," he gasped with difficulty, "Snape says call the Aurors here. _Now_."

Reluctant to leave Draco but knowing as a trainee auror he was the best person to achieve a speedy connection to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Harry ran back inside to the fire to put in a Floo call. Hermione knelt on the grass next to Draco, helping him to sit up when he indicated that he wanted to. She was desperate to ask about Severus, but knew that he would undoubtedly tell her everything as soon as he had the available breath, so she sat on her urge to pound him with relentless questions.

They had only been sitting there a matter of minutes; not even that, Harry was still inside using the Floo, when Severus apparated next to them, missing them by inches and landing as heavily on the lawn as Draco had done. He too looked a little dazed for a few seconds, and then sat up, unaided.

She couldn't help herself from throwing herself into his arms with relief, nearly knocking him back down again.

"You really should check your husband for injuries before assaulting his person further," he chided, a look of mischief in his black eyes, and she was gratified to see the life returning to his expression.

Harry came out of the house and back towards them at a run.

"The aurors are on their way, they won't be long ... Snape! You're back?"

"You need not sound so surprised, Potter. Action needed to be taken, and I took it. Save your concern, such as it is, for your partner here. If I am correct in my assumptions, he has taken a great deal of punishment today."

They all turned to Draco, his face covered in cuts and rapidly-purpling bruises. Severus drew his wand and knelt up, casting diagnostics quickly along his body, working from the heart outwards.

"Your heart rate is worrying, Draco, but that should improve now you are here. Are you aware that your right leg is broken?"

Draco grimaced.

"That _could_ be the reason I was limping across the workroom towards you. Fucking _kills._ Can you fix it?"

Severus fixed the bone with a sickening crunch that made Draco vomit directly onto the lawn.

"Ah, that's both of you today. How delightful," Severus said, witheringly.

Draco looked up at Harry, who was sitting behind him supporting his back as Severus fixed his leg.

"You puked too?"

"Unfortunately. A trip to a certain graveyard looking for _you_ brought mine on."

"Nice. Where's Ted?"

"The Burrow. Ron and Molly are keeping him overnight. Mrs Armitage found him early this morning outside the house."

"Thank fuck for that. He wasn't on his own long."

"So what the bloody hell happened?"

As Draco was about to answer, they heard the cracks of a multiple apparition outside the perimeter of the cottage, and Severus released the wards to allow them access. A dozen Aurors swarmed into the tiny garden. It was time to unravel the afternoon's events.

\- xxx –

Much later, the four of them were standing on the scrubby grass outside the wreckage of Lawton Barn in the grey gloom of early evening. However, to call it _wreckage_ was stretching the truth, since the entire structure, its contents, and no doubt all the people inside had been reduced to nothing but a huge, perfectly flat, pile of ash in the centre of the circular lawn, like the remains of a campfire that had belonged to a party of giants.

Hermione watched Severus gaze at the flat expanse before him, the sum total of all his hard work burnt to nothing in a matter of minutes. She knew from her experience in the Room of Requirement during the battle of Hogwarts how instantly Fiendfyre destroyed everything in its path, only stopping when it reached the walls containing in, hence the barn-shaped burn in the centre of the lawn.

Severus' workroom, his home, his furniture, all his equipment and supplies, all his records, were gone. Everything. Nothing left. She slipped under his arm and wrapped both her arms tightly around his waist.

"They were only _things_ , Hermione."

She looked up at him.

" _Only things_ ," he repeated, "I have in my arms all that I need in my life. Everything else can be replaced."

She felt tears prick her eyes at his words of love, even at time like this when all his worldly belongings and livelihood had been destroyed.

"I love you, Severus. I will help you. We will rebuild."

He shook his head.

"I will not rebuild. This is now a graveyard. We will claim on the insurance, as this is registered as a muggle dwelling as well as a magical one. I will start again elsewhere."

"You are so brave, and such a good man."

"Thank you for thinking so."

They picked their way around the grey charcoal, some of the embers still glowing, set out in a perfect floorplan of the barn. As they passed a tree on the perimeter, they heard hooting, and crossed over the dry grass to investigate. Five small brown post owls were perched in the branches of the elm tree, hooting softly to draw Severus' attention. He gave them the address of the large willow tree in the cottage garden and bade them to head there.

"And where is the last of their number, I wonder," he mused, aloud, heading back towards where the Owlery would have been situated.

" _Oh_ ," exclaimed Hermione, as they approached, " _Oh no_ ..."

On the grass next to the outline of ash that indicated where the Owlery had been, was a single huge black wing, fully outstretched as if it was about to take flight.

She covered her mouth with her hands and felt tears rise up again. _Hannibal._

"He always struggled to get his fat arse out of the Owlery window," reminded Draco, sadly, as he and Harry joined them, and looked down at the fallen wing.

"He must have let the other owls leave first," Hermione noted, "and then the fire took hold before he ... before he could ..."

There was silence for a few moments.

"That owl was a cretinous arsehole," Severus noted, and quite unbidden, they all smiled through their tears.

He continued; his eyes sad.

"I doubt we shall ever see another bird such as him. One of a kind, I think."

They stood silently.

The aurors were just completing their investigations, ready to remove the muggle-repelling charm so that the muggle police and fire brigade could enter, and deal with the mess as a muggle house fire, when the two aurors whom had been dispatched to the Death Eater safe-house where Draco had told them they would find the body of Andromeda Black, returned. They looked quite white-faced and flustered as they approached their superior and began to explain.

Standing next to the Head of the Auror Office, Severus, Hermione, Draco and Harry heard every word.

"The body of Miss Black has been taken to St Mungo's," one reported.

" _What_?" interjected Draco, "Why would you take her there? I saw Macnair cast a killing curse upon her. She is dead!"

The female Auror looked at Draco sympathetically.

"Your aunt is dead, Mr Malfoy, that is certain. But somehow, the baby she is carrying; is _not_."

"What?"

"We detected a heartbeat and signs of life from the womb when we examined Miss Black's body, where it rested in the armchair you saw her killed in. We have removed the body of the mother to St Mungo's where it will remain to be seen whether or not the baby can be saved by the Healers there."

Draco stood stunned, seemingly unable to move or speak. His noble face; that usually spoke of good breeding and privilege, looked rather more _normal_ now, laced with shock and bruises.

Harry put his arms around his partner, as if trying to warm him up enough to be able to speak. He looked like he was searching for the right words to say.

"Draco," he said, softly, "we _have_ to go to St Mungo's. We have to go _now_. If this baby survives, it has no one but you."

They stood silently, Harry holding him tightly and quietly, allowing him the time to make the decision himself. After a while, he pulled back from Harry and looked at him.

" _She_ ," Draco whispered, "My sister has no one but me."

He allowed Harry to Side-Along him away.

"Professor Snape."

The Head Auror was speaking.

"There has been a huge amount of death here, tonight. The ministry records show that twenty-one magical beings breathed their last at the same hour, at this location."

"Indeed there has. I cast the Fiendfyre, with that intention."

"You are not an Auror, Professor. You do not have the authority to meter out punishment, least of all _execution_."

Severus snapped his head up, fixing the man with a hard, black stare.

"What _exact_ information are you attempting to convey, here?"

"It is hopeful that everyone you killed was a bearer of the Dark Mark, or in some other way a fugitive of the law, in which case, the Wizengamot may choose to grant you clemency over their murders at your hands. However until the identity of each victim is established, I have no choice but to take you into the custody of the Ministry of Magic."

He removed his wand, quickly and with practised ease conjuring a pair of magic-suppressing handcuffs before applying them to Severus' wrists, which were still partly blackened from the ash and smoke of the Fiendfyre.

"No!" shouted Hermione, trying to pull the hateful cuffs from her husband's wrists, "this is ridiculous! He's just rid the wizarding world of its last remaining threats; he's a hero, not a criminal! You must be joking!"

The bull-headed man looked at her with a neutral expression.

"The Ministry of Magic never makes _jokes_ , Miss Granger."


	65. Chapter 65

**Chapter 65**

Hermione, Harry and Draco passed a restless night at Cliffside Cottage, the majority of the dark hours were spent talking over the events of the previous nearly twenty-four hours, and making plans for the following morning. They had Severus being held at the Ministry and a newborn baby without anyone in the world to call her own; the three of them most certainly had a full day ahead. Thank goodness Teddy was staying overnight at the Burrow, and no doubt Molly and Arthur would hold on to him for longer if needed. They both felt as responsible as Harry for the orphan child of Lupin and Tonks.

Draco, in pain and uncomfortable from the sustained attack he had received at the hands of the Death Eaters trying to wrest the location of the Secret-Kept barn from him, had eventually been persuaded to go to bed, his healed broken leg was swollen and needed to be elevated and rested. He also needed to rest his distraught head, and try and get some sleep.

He and Harry had filled Hermione in on everything that had happened at the hospital for Magical Maladies when they arrived there in a whirl of chaos and confusion directly from the wreckage of the barn. Healers were unable to explain how the baby had survived Macnair's Avada Kedavra, other than the spell kills the victim in an unknown, painless way. The life-giving placenta inside Andromeda had continued to pulse, keeping it alive, although it was beginning to slow drastically.

The Healers had cut the baby cleanly from Andromeda's lifeless body using their wands against her abdomen, transferring the shockingly tiny but definitely alive female infant to the children's ward where specialist Healers had cast a variety of spells to mature the baby's lungs, and made her comfortable in a specially-conjured softly padded cradle that supported every part of her little body. She was being kept directly under the watchful eye of the Head Healer who was monitoring the little girl both visually and by spellcast diagnostics to ensure she was coping with being outside of her mother's womb so prematurely.

Draco, despite being conflicted and in shock, had magically verified himself as the child's only living relative and assumed full guardianship. Since Lucius, the natural father, was in Ministry custody awaiting trial and most likely a life-sentence in Azkaban, his parental rights to the new baby were automatically revoked. The official scroll confirming the guardianship had rolled itself up and zipped off to the Ministry archives, exactly the same as the one that confirmed Harry's responsibility for Teddy.

Draco had not been able to walk away from St Mungo's leaving the tiny baby who was both his half-sister and his cousin without anyone in the world willing to care for her, as much as he might have wanted to. In truth, he had loved her on sight; tiny and red and skinny as she was - how he would manage to even hold her without breaking her he had no idea. But he would find out, and he would make sure that this innocent little girl did not suffer from the inauspicious circumstances of her conception and birth.

Her magical birth certificate was not yet completed, as once it dawned on him that he was the one responsible for naming the child, his mind had drawn a complete blank. She was currently recorded on the pending certificate as:

 _Baby Girl MALFOY_

 _Father: Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, permanently incarcerated._

 _Mother: Andromeda Tonks (Black), deceased._

What a dreadful start in life, he and Harry had mused. Draco had even toyed with giving the child a different surname rather than the accursed name of _Malfoy_ , but Harry had talked him out of it, insisting it was only right that she should hold the same last name as her brother and guardian. Draco would transform the Malfoy name from being synonymous with dark magic and undeserved privilege into something to be proud of; Harry was sure of it and told him so.

They had left St Mungo's quite late in the evening, when Harry had received an urgent message via Hermione's otter patronus, to return to the cottage straight away. Draco had reluctantly left his sister in the care of the children's Healers, and they had returned to Cliffside via the communal floo in the hospital reception area.

They had found Hermione not distraught, but completely and utterly _livid_ as she explained the circumstances behind Severus' arrest. Pacing the small living room of the cottage she was sparking red magic from her hair in anger, her face almost purple with apoplectic rage at the injustice of it all.

Harry had immediately fired off his stag patronus to Kingsley Shacklebolt, requesting an immediate audience. There were very few people who could directly contact the Minister of Magic, but Shacklebolt considered the Boy-Who-Lived a personal friend and a loyal ally, with all they had been through together whilst working for the Order of the Phoenix during the years of Voldemort's second reign of terror. Kingsley had been made Minister for Magic following the removal of the Imperiused Pius Thicknesse after the war, and he was proving himself sensible, innovative, and most of all, fair and just. He was undoubtedly the person they needed to contact regarding what had happened to Severus.

The three of them had continued to talk through the night, curled up in front of the fire in piles of blankets and cushions whilst drinking endless cups of tea to keep awake. Kingsley's reply had come in the form of his Lynx patronus about half an hour after they had sent Draco to bed, advising them that even though it was a Sunday, they should come and see him in his office at the Ministry in the morning, eleven o'clock. Harry had confirmed the meeting via patronus message, and finally both of them realised there was nothing else to be done that night, and they would better help Severus by getting some rest and being ready to fight for him the following day.

Harry joined Draco in the guest room, and after Hermione had cleared up the living room and completed her evening ablutions in the bathroom, she peeked in the door as she felt an odd need to check on them. The boys had pushed the beds together and were holding hands across the gap, Draco fast asleep and Harry looking so too. She felt a little stab in her heart, of happiness for them finding this relationship together, certainly, but also an intense pang of longing for her bondmate, her wizard from whom she had spent very little time apart during the year they had been together.

Severus was likely in a cold, uncomfortable holding cell in the arse-end of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, completely unfairly and with no respect for the service he had just provided the wizarding world. He would be amongst drunks and criminals, with no comforts, when he should be here with her, being comforted after the traumatic events of the day. _For Merlin's sake, he hadn't even had a wash_ , she thought, remembering his pale white wrists blackened with ash as the suppressing cuffs had been applied to him by the immovable Head Auror.

Climbing the narrow spiral staircase to their bedroom in the roof, the moonlight shining through the sloped ceiling windows, she felt saddened and defeated. Scrambling across the unmade bed to flop in the middle on her back, staring upwards at the myriad stars spread across the night sky, she decided that sadness was allowed, but defeat was most certainly not.

Severus would need her in the morning, undefeated and ready to fight for him.

 _She would be._

\- xxx –

Harry and Hermione strode swiftly through the almost deserted central atrium of the Ministry, their steps echoing and bouncing off the shiny black tiled walls, ready for their meeting with the Minister himself with intent to procure Severus' freedom. They had persuaded Draco to stay back at the cottage, resting and gaining his strength for another visit to the hospital later that day. He had protested, but finally his aching leg and throbbing headache had made the decision for him and he returned to the guest bedroom, sinking gratefully back into the pillows.

They headed to the Minister's office, stalking straight past the desk where his secretaries normally worked, as they were completely empty; all the staff were at their homes for the weekend. Kingsley must have come in to the Ministry of Magic especially to see them.

Hermione swept into his office with all the air of an avenging valkyrie.

"Kingsley," she began, desperate to keep her tone measured and not resort to hysteria which would not be useful _or_ professional.

"Kingsley. You have heard what has happened. How can this be allowed? Severus just rid the wizarding world of what seems like every single one of its remaining threats and he is arrested and held for murder? This is ridiculous!"

"Hermione, listen ..." Kingsley began, but she was not even approaching full-flow and he was forced to concede and allow her to continue.

"Furthermore, he took a split-second decision under the threat of being tortured and killed by the death eaters _and_ werewolves _and_ other assorted fugitives that had broken into his home and workplace, a decision that could have cost him his own life as well, you know, had he not been able to escape the Fiendfyre he conjured."

"Hermione ..."

"AND even knowing that it could kill him too, he STILL took the decision to bring down all the criminals for the sake of society, no matter _what_ the personal cost was to him. And this wizard has been arrested? I cannot believe it! I refuse to believe it!"

Her voice was becoming shrill, and Harry could hear her beginning to lose a bit of control with the emotion of the situation, so he took over, not giving Shacklebolt a chance to tell them how they needed to follow procedure, or that clemency would be given eventually.

"What we can't understand, Minister, is that during the war we fought against these people, we all did; me, Hermione, you and everyone else. We killed or caught most of them, but some escaped and have been a threat to peaceful existence since then. Surely Snape did us all a favour?"

"Harry ..." the minister was desperately trying to get a word in, but seemed to recognise that the two of them needed to vent their feelings.

"And think of everything Snape did in the last war; for you, for Dumbledore, for me. He would be completely within his rights to leave this country behind and find a peaceful life somewhere else, but yet he _stayed_ , and not only stayed, has thrown himself into the line of fire _once again_ for the benefit of others!"

Harry stopped, now breathing as heavily as Hermione. Kingsley Shacklebolt regarded them from behind his desk, where he had remained seated calmly throughout the tirade from the two youngsters he knew so well.

"I agree with you," he said, slowly, looking from one breathless Gryffindor to the other, "I agree with both of you."

"Then what can be done?" Hermione practically screeched.

"I have already done it," he smiled, waving a hand and indicating behind them.

They whirled around to see Severus sitting at a small sofa at the back of the ministerial office, a pot of tea and plate of biscuits in front of him on a little table, and with a smug expression that was rapidly approaching a smirk playing across his face.

Spinning back to Kingsley for an explanation, the purple-clad Minister smiled.

"Hence the reason I did not call you in until eleven o'clock today. I needed a few hours to investigate the situation and speak with the Head of the MLE. Once I had viewed Severus' memory of the incident, along with a list of the deceased, including Andromeda Black earlier in the day, it became apparent that this was the attack from the depleted ranks of the death eaters that we have been expecting since the end of the war. Severus' swift action in disposing of what we believe, if the list is correct, of the final bearers of the dark mark, along with a band of werewolves who refuse to register on the Wolfsbane programme, has removed our greatest threats to peacetime. You are indeed correct; we should be celebrating this wizard, not imprisoning him."

"Force me into any kind of public celebration and I _shall_ leave the country, I assure you of _that_ , Shacklebolt." Severus quipped.

Hermione gaped around at each person present, uncharacteristically lost for words, before turning back to Severus and launching herself into his lap, making him spill his cup of tea on Kingsley's undoubtedly-expensive office carpet.

"So you really _are_ bonded then," Kingsley smiled, "I would not have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. Still, I suppose someone had to marry the grumpy bastard."

His eyes twinkled, good-naturedly, as Severus glowered at his former Order colleague.

"You could have told us, Kingsley," she griped, from the comfort of her husband's lap.

"I did _attempt_ to, Hermione. You and Harry were most certainly ready for a fight. But know this; whilst I am Minister, you will never again have to convince the Ministry of what is right, or just. Not whilst I am in charge."

"However, I did rather enjoy hearing my wife and Mr Potter go into verbal battle on my behalf," Severus drawled, reaching for a biscuit in a leisurely fashion, "It was rather touching. Especially from you, Potter."

He crunched down hard on the biscuit in an arrogant fashion and chewed pointedly.

Harry rolled his eyes, something he would never have dared to do as a student in Snape's feared dungeon classroom.

"So he's free to go? That's it?"

"That's it, Harry," Kingsley confirmed. "You can all go. Enjoy what is left of your weekend, won't you?"

\- xxx –

Draco sat in the swingseat in the back garden of Granger's cottage, feeling a little stupid wrapped up in one of her many fluffy blankets like an invalid, but he couldn't deny it was comfortable, and he really couldn't be bothered to get dressed and was currently only wearing a pair of pants, so the blanket was a necessity. He was waiting for news of Severus, and for Harry to return so that they could go to the hospital to see the little girl that was currently occupying all his thoughts. He had needed some fresh air, and so had ventured out into the small cottage garden.

The weather was chilly, but not uncomfortably so, and he enjoyed the sounds the long branches and fronds of the willow tree made as the wind whistled through them. A swishing noise. He liked it. He liked this whole cottage, its garden, and its view of the sea, but not as much as he loved his house in Godric's Hollow. That truly was _home_. He hoped they could go back there tonight.

When his sister was older and stronger he and Harry would bring her here with Teddy, for weekends and holidays. He imagined a toddler with hair as white-blonde as his own running about the garden, in and out of the weeping branches of the enormous willow tree. Perhaps they could hang a swing inside, or make a den.

It was his first real thought of her as a person in her own right, and suddenly, clear as day, her name came to him.

\- xxx –

Much later that day, after they had said their goodbyes to Hermione and Severus and visited the children's ward at the hospital, Harry found himself back at the Ministry for the second time that day, this time with Draco.

They were headed towards the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which was open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week for emergencies and so that the holding cells were always staffed by whichever Aurors were on duty.

Draco, flanked by Harry, walked down the long corridors following behind a serious looking young auror who led them to the interview room, which was also used for prisoners' visits. They entered the dark room, where Lucius Malfoy, looking unkempt and unshaven, sat in a solid wooden chair with chains on the arms; much like the one Harry had once sat in before the Wizengamot. The auror remained in the room, but closed the door behind them with a heavy _clunk_ which echoed uncomfortably.

Lucius looked up slowly, and met his son's eyes with what seemed like reluctance.

"What happened to you?" he asked, his eyes flickering over the healing cuts and bruises on Draco's face.

"I don't think your Death Eater friends like me too much," he replied, curtly.

His father hung his head again, as if in no doubt that the Death Eaters he had engaged to murder his wife had caused the injuries that now littered his son's face.

"Did you hear about what happened to Aunt Dromeda?" Draco asked.

"They told me this morning. They told me about ... the baby."

" _This_ is your daughter."

Draco thrust a moving photograph under his father's nose, one that he had taken using the hospital's magical camera just an hour before, of his sister wriggling in the conjured cradle, eyes still closed, but looking pinker than she had the day before.

"She is small, and may not be fully developed internally, time will tell the extent of any damage, but the Healers think she will live. I will be taking care of her. I have assumed official guardianship of my sister, or my cousin, whichever way you want to look at it, since she has no one else."

Lucius nodded slowly, his eyes drained of all fight or inspiration.

"Does she have a name?" he asked, as if grasping for conversation.

"Her name is Willow. _Willow Narcissa Malfoy_. Named for the woman who _should_ have been her mother. _My_ wonderful mother, whom you stole from me."

Lucius opened his mouth to speak, but Draco cut him off.

"Don't even bother telling me you're sorry, father. It is all too late now. For nineteen years I idolised you. I did everything you ever asked me. I stayed loyal to you even when _your_ bad choices threatened our family, our reputation, _our very lives_ , for Merlin's sake. And now I am finished with you. Ownership of Malfoy Manor has legally passed to me, which can only mean that you will very soon be sent to Azkaban permanently. I will be selling the manor, and putting away the proceeds for Willow's education, and to support me whilst I stay at home to raise her before she attends school. The rest I will give to charity. I have no need of that level of wealth; you have shown me the damage it can do."

Lucius remained quiet.

"And, _Potter_?" he gestured towards the bespectacled boy who had a supportive hand on his partner's shoulder as he said everything he wanted and needed to his father.

Draco turned towards Harry and smiled.

"Harry Potter is the very best of wizards. _That_ is all you need to know. You can keep the photograph. Be assured that I intend for Willow to have a wonderful life, surrounded by love, not things, to be tolerant, not critical, and be accepted, not forced to change who she is to please others. She will not suffer under the ignominy from which she was created."

He pushed the photograph of the tiny baby into Lucius' fingertips, as his father's arms were chained to the chair, and then turned away from the man who had blighted his life through his own lust for power and status. He would _not_ be making the same mistakes.

\- xxx –

Hermione had used all the blanket and cushions they owned to make a nest in front of the cottage fire, exactly the same way they used to all those months ago in his dreary quarters in the dungeons of Hogwarts. He had enjoyed a hot shower, rinsing away the last of the fiendfyre ash, and the smell of the dank holding cell in the Ministry he had been forced to spend the previous night inside.

They had eaten simple pumpkin soup and hot rolls, which Hermione had managed to heat without burning, and now had a tall goblet of red wine each, which were standing to the side of the fire on the little stone ledges, out of the way of the softly-burning blaze. They sat cross-legged and opposite each other in pyjamas, her in the tiny vest and shorts she preferred, and him in his much-loved grey tshirt and lounge pants. They held each other with one hand, using the other to lift and set down their wine goblets as they drank to relax, the flickering glow of the fire making ripples across the room.

"What will you do now, Severus?" she ventured.

"I will finish my wine, and then possibly pour a second goblet. One cannot be sure of these things."

"You know what I mean."

"Indeed I do."

"Everything you had is gone."

"Not quite everything. I am thankful to have that trunk of my most precious books still safely stored inside your spare room, and thanks to the popularity of Advanced Wolfsbane, my Gringotts account is far healthier than when I first started STS Potions. I shall begin again."

"Can we live here? I mean, I know its small, but you expanded that room for Harry and Draco, could you do more? I love it here, and I need to be somewhere I love more than ever, now that the barn is gone."

"Hermione, we can live wherever your heart desires. If you wish to stay here, I can expand the cottage if we find we need it."

A small smirk crept to one side of his mouth.

"I was thinking about ... _down_ to start off with."

"Down?"

"Expanding down, yes. An entire cellar, in fact. A cellar so big that it could almost hold potions equipment, ingredient stores and workbenches."

She smiled at him.

"You want to create a laboratory under the cottage and run the potions business from there?"

"If you are amenable to the idea."

"It sounds just fine. Especially as you can just nip up the stairs at the end of each day to cook my dinner."

"Damn cheeky wench."

"You love me."

"That I do, Hermione. Never doubt that."

He plucked her wine glass from her hand and set it down next to his on the stone hearth. Leaning forward, he placed his lips on hers and began to kiss her, tasting the tang of the wine as she opened her mouth to receive him. He revelled in her kiss, sliding his hands up into her abundant curls and holding the back of her head in his grasp, as he continued to move his mouth upon hers.

Still kissing, he gently pushed further forwards, laying her down upon the soft nest they had made and leaning above her, resting on his elbows and kissing her until she was murmuring in pleasure.

"This is the most extraordinary feeling," he told her, his voice deep and husky, looking down on her and stroking her hair.

"What is?"

"For the first time in my life, I feel _safe_. There is no one who wishes to hurt me, or kill me. There is no employer dictating to me, no puppet-masters controlling me. Instead there is a beautiful young witch who for some inexplicable reason decided to look beyond what everyone else saw, and found the man within, a scared child who trusted no one."

"Oh, Severus," she stroked his face, and raked her hands through his fine black hair that was hanging down his cheeks as he leaned over her. He lay one of his large hands on her soft stomach.

"Although I did not make it easy for you, you found my heart, my spirit, and nurtured it back to life. I was a dead man walking, Hermione, and still would be if it were not for you – for your tenacity and persistence and love. I will never understand how you achieved it, after all, a more surly or obstinate wizard would be hard to find, but I promise I will spent the rest of my days showing you how glad I am that you did."

He moved on top of her, pressing against her, and she wrapped her legs around him.

"Make love to me," she whispered.

"Every day, and always," he replied.

 _How can you see into my eyes, like open doors?_

 _Leading you down into my core, where I've become so numb,_

 _Without a soul._

 _My spirit's sleeping somewhere cold,_

 _Until you find it there, and lead it back home._

 _Bring me to Life._


	66. Epilogue

**Good grief, it's the epilogue! Writing this story has been an absolute adventure for me, and thank you SO much for joining me along the way! It's been blissful to read the lovely reviews, encouraging comments, and suggestions, it would be no lie to say that every review has kept me going, especially on tough days. Enjoy the epilogue, and I hope to see you on my next fic!**

 **Epilogue**

 _Ten years later ..._

Hermione came out of the cottage door and into the garden after washing her face free of the make-up she had been wearing all day. It was high summer and she was sweltering, despite the loose, flowing dress she wore. She had taken off her shoes and was walking barefoot on the grass, which felt a little crunchy after the long spell of dry weather.

They had spent the day at the wedding of her best friend Ron Weasley to a lovely witch he had met in the Auror office, where he was now a fully qualified Auror and had been for seven years now. Flora Weasley was a determined, brave girl who reminded Hermione a little of Tonks, and she was more than a match for Ron's inherent laziness, which would slip over into full-time _sloth_ if he were not kept in check.

They already had two children together, with Keah making three, but Ron had only _just_ got around to asking Flora to marry him a few months ago. Molly was so relieved to see the engagement finally take place that she had pulled out all the stops to throw them a fabulous wedding in the grounds of the Burrow that had all the magic and love of Bill and Fleur's, just without the Death Eater invasion at the end, _which was a bonus_ , as Ron had mentioned somewhat controversially in his wedding speech.

The Death Eaters were gone, of course, the last of them snuffed out by Fiendfyre. Voldemort's ideals had died with them, and the wizarding world was peaceful. However, even ten years later seemed too soon to joke about it. Some things would just never be funny, Hermione supposed.

It had been a wonderful wedding, full of family and friends and joy. Ron's oldest daughter, the shockingly red-haired Keah, was on her summer holiday after completing her first year at Hogwarts where she had predictably been sorted in Gryffindor, and her delight at seeing her father finally settle down with Flora, who she couldn't have loved any more if she'd been her real mother, was very emotional for those witnessing. For all his faults, Ron had done a fine job raising his daughter by himself after the tragic circumstances of her birth. Keah was a true Weasley, kind and mischievous in equal measure.

Draco and Harry, who had formalised their relationship and bonded a few years previously, had been in great spirits at the wedding, despite Draco's mounting panic, that had been increasing all summer, about Willow leaving for Hogwarts on the first of September.

Teddy was already there of course, having just finished his second year, and was full of tall stories to aggravate the tiny blonde girl he considered his sister, having been raised together. Teddy was a proud Hufflepuff, as was his mother before him, and found it hilarious that Draco was practically wetting himself about Willow being Sorted into Slytherin, (due to her parentage it was almost a given that was where she would go) and alternating this with wetting himself that she would _not_ be in Slytherin, since he considered that all the other houses were a bit shit.

Draco had been a constant source of hand-flapping, problem-making, over-protective amusement ever since Willow had received her Hogwarts letter from Professor McGonagall earlier that year.

Willow had recovered well from her difficult start in life. Her early years had kept Harry and Draco back and forth to St Mungo's with every cough or sneeze, and it was true she had suffered some nasty illnesses that a stronger child might have fought off, but as she grew older she grew stronger, and although still small and insubstantial, a heavy gust of wind could knock her over, she had a Malfoy's confidence and wound the three males in her family around her little finger. Hermione privately had no doubt that Willow would be sorted into Slytherin, and would do very well there, the house no longer being the bastion of pureblood superiority it had been during her own schooldays; but a house for the tenacious, the cunning, and the ambitious.

Harry had now been an Auror for six years, taking a year longer than Ron to qualify but moving through the ranks faster since then. He was already at supervisory level, and Hermione had no doubt that he would became the department head at some point in the future.

With no need for income once he had sold Malfoy Manor, Draco had given up work almost entirely to raise Willow, although he still came over to the cottage fairly regularly to assist Severus when needed, and he planned to return full-time once she started Hogwarts and finally complete his Potions Mastery as Severus' apprentice, which was probably a wise idea since he was likely to drive Harry completely insane with his worrying during the school time.

 _Severus._ She looked at her striking husband, still as attractive to her ten years later as he had been right at the start. He was relaxing on the old swingseat in the garden, having kicked off his shoes and socks, unfastened the buttons at his collar and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. It really had been too hot for formal wear at the wedding today, she was glad to be a female and able to get away with a light summer dress as Severus had been hot and bothered most of the day in full formal dress robes.

He had been true to his word and had indeed expanded beneath the cottage and down into the cliff, creating a wonderful laboratory from where he had restarted STS Potions, deciding from the start that he would scale down the intense basic-remedies production. This was since Draco was no longer working for him with any kind of regularity and he refused to employ anybody else, opting to concentrate on brewing Wolfsbane, for which he was the only supplier, and his own private research.

The potions researching had been his dream for so long that he could scarcely believe he was finally doing it. And getting paid for it! He spent two days a month at St Mungo's potions research department, and they paid him a consultancy fee for his findings. There had been several trips abroad to potions conferences and symposiums, and he had been published many times in prominent potions journals. He was outstanding in his field, respected and much sought-after as a potioneer and speaker.

And best of all, when she returned home from work she was greeted by dinner and the lips of her husband, except when he was so engrossed in a piece of research or a particular brew that she could have pranced down to the cellar naked and he wouldn't notice. She knew. She'd tried it.

By Merlin, she _loved_ this man. For his work ethic, his intellect, his bravery, his sensitivity, his sensuality and yes, even his sheer bloody-mindedness. There had never been a moment she had regretted the choice she had made to bind herself to him. In return, he loved her with a fierce passion bordering on obsession. He never let a day go past without assuring her of his devotion, and she never had to worry about him enjoying the attentions of other witches. He appeared wilfully blind to any interest shown to him, which had been quite comical at some potions events; he was disinterested to the point of being rude, to flirting witches trying their luck with the wealthy, mysterious professor.

As the sun was beginning to fall in the sky the temperature had gone down to a bearable level, and the garden was pleasantly warm, with a salty sea breeze blowing in from the ocean that cooled their hot skin.

She walked towards him, glasses of cool lemonade in her hands, and set them on the small table. He took one, and downed it in one, gratefully. In no mood for false politeness, she took another glass and did the same thing, letting out a relieved gasp for breath at the end.

"You will burp now," he teased, holding out his hand for hers.

"How rude, of course I won't," she replied, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her towards him, "and if I do, it will be _her_ fault, not _mine_ ," she grinned.

"Ah yes," he said, leaning forward and planting kisses on Hermione's swollen belly, "this little lady who keeps her mother awake at all hours, makes her back hurt and _of course_ causes all the burps she thinks I don't notice."

Hermione swatted him lightly on the shoulder.

"Do you mind?"

"Not at all. Now come and sit down, you have been on your feet most of the day; you will retain water in your ankles if you are not careful."

She sank down on the swingseat, battered with over-use but still their favourite place in the cottage, and lifted her legs up atop the comfy seat, stretching out and leaning on Severus for support. He placed his hand on her stomach and rubbed soothing circles on the taut skin.

"It will not be long now, my darling, I promise you."

"I know, another month. I can do it."

He leaned forwards and dropped a kiss on her forehead.

And to think that people had thought that Severus Snape would never be a good father. In fact, even Severus _himself_ believed he could never be a good father. Well, that was a load of rubbish, the proof of which was running across the lawn to them now, his white shirt that had been so pristine for the wedding now covered in chocolate cake, grass stains and pumpkin juice, the smart little trousers long discarded for a pair of eye-wateringly awful shorts with dragons on them.

"Zeph," she called, "do you want some lemonade? Me and Daddy are having some."

He ran over, in the slightly awkward way that a nearly-three-year-old runs.

"Yus Mumma," he replied, "Me want."

"Say please, Zephyr," Severus prompted, gently.

"Peas."

He barked out a short laugh.

"That will do. Here you are."

He passed the glass to his son, who had difficulty holding it in his sweaty hands, so Severus held the glass steady and tipped it slowly as the little boy drank the sweet lemonade that was such a treat. Molly had made the pink lemonade especially for the wedding, and had pressed a jug on them to take home.

Zephyr Granger-Snape had made his impending arrival known as Hermione was completing her third year as the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

She had quickly worked her way through the department, and succeeded Esther as Head when her friend was offered a high-ranking place on the Wizengamot. Hermione was proud of everything she had achieved as department head, in particular, the passing of legislation that greatly improved life and working conditions for house-elves. Finally, SPEW had come to fruition, with no need for hand-knitted bobble hats, now she could really do something effective.

When she found out she was expecting, it was an easy decision to take an extended sabbatical from work to raise her child. She was _Hermione Granger_ , and Hermione Granger did not do _anything_ unless it was to the best of her ability. Child-rearing would be no different.

Zeph would be grown and at Hogwarts before she knew it, it was really no hardship to spend his childhood years at home with him, and actually she loved it. The little girl inside her was planned and much-wanted, to complete their family in the most perfect way.

Severus helped his son to drain the contents of the glass, who was clearly enjoying the normally-forbidden sugary drink. He smacked his lips once he was done, and grinned at his parents.

Hermione had said that Zeph was the image of his father, and at first he hadn't believed her, but as the boy grew older it was difficult to deny. His poker-straight black hair, pale skin, skinny legs and signs of the family nose meant this child was nothing but a Snape. He sometimes wondered if Hermione was secretly annoyed that her son looked nothing like her. _Privately_ wondered, of course.

The difference between Zephyr and the childhood Severus was love, good nutrition, direction, approval and purpose. Zeph was glowing with health and happiness, all due to Hermione's instinctive care.

He supposed it was the same with him, brought to life by her love and care.

Gathering his beloved son onto his lap, the son he never thought he would have, his dark eyes drooping, he allowed him to wrap his hot, sticky arms around his neck and rest his head upon his strong shoulder. Zeph soon became heavy with tiredness, and his eyes began to close, his long black eyelashes feathering his soft white cheeks. He was a beautiful boy.

Hermione was leant against him on his other side, her curly hair under his chin and his daughter alive and moving in her belly under the touch of his hand which rested lightly on the swollen ripeness of her pregnancy bump.

Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, he marvelled about how he, _Severus Snape_ , could have ended up so damn lucky.

His arms were full.


End file.
